If I Go Crazy
by JKrlin
Summary: Everyone has potential. It's just a matter of finding it and exercising your abilities. Jace can see the potential in New Vegas, in the Mojave. The home he left behind couldn't see that it was doomed to be destroyed. Vegas, however, is the catalyst of the prosperous future humanity desperately needs. Jace just has to make sure the Legion or NCR don't end up destroying everything.
1. Reason

We were preparing for war. We were preparing for war, and nobody would admit it. Nobody but me.

They couldn't understand. I knew they wouldn't. For one thing, they don't see the world like I do. They can even barely see what's right in front of them. They know that people are doing horrible things and that we can all die at any moment if we're not careful. What they can't see is the potential in everything.

Our enemies, the "Strangers," they have gained so much in so little time. The weapons, the fortifications, the location; it was all planned for the perfect defense. Their resolve is very impressive. Even with the loss of their leader, they still continue to fight us. They are still planning, preparing for the next confrontation despite everything that we have put them through. That resolve in the world we live in is hard to find. If we had that resolve, we could do more than just survive; we could thrive.

The people I work with don't see the same things that I do. All they see is those that have wronged them. My village only cares about its own little world, the pretty picture my friends have painted for themselves. They know what's going on out there, but they choose to ignore it for the sake of their own skins. And so, the ones they have declared enemies are going stay like that forever: enemies.

I honestly don't blame them. I blame the ones who raised them. The people that I have grown up with and the people that taught me how to survive were taught prejudice. We were sheltered and told that we shouldn't trust strangers. Never mind if they had risked their lives to save us and helped us return home. All it mattered was that they weren't raised in our little community. Thus, they couldn't be trusted.

My friends don't see a war; they see clearing out a pack of bandits for the good of the village. Even after trying to explain to them and showing them what our enemies are capable of, they just brushed it off and said," Brother, they haven't seen the best of us in action. We can take them out without a sweat. People out there aren't educated like we are, and they are going to get what they deserve."

I nearly kneed the guy who said that in the groin.

We are preparing for war. Our enemies are in a too damn good position for us to just ambush them in the middle of the night. We have numbers, but they have better gear and better experience. We can't afford to do a 24/7 long term siege, and I know we won't be able to push into the heart of their base in a single rush. We'll return, again and again, until they're all dead.

Both sides have limited resources. We both have farms, clean water, and weapons. Eventually, though, we will run out of bullets. While the Strangers are isolated and are unable to go out and scavenge, we picked clean of anything usable within a 180 mile radius from our village. If we need more ammunition, we're gonna have to send a team out into uncharted territory. Less manpower means that we'll need more people working on domestic issues and less on taking out our enemies. I bet the Strangers are already working on a plan if this happens.

No one is going to surrender in this war. Both sides have made it clear that neither is going to submit. This war is going to be dragged out for a long time.

I can't stay here. I don't want to be part of a war that's being fought for nothing. If I stay, I'm either going to lead people to their deaths or die trying. Since no one is willing to listen to reason, I think I ought to just leave. People have left before, and it's said that they've never returned. I never knew anyone personally that's left, but it was probably a hard decision to leave everything and everyone you grew up with.

For me, the choice to leave is a no-brainer.

My parents were more like strangers who just so happened to live in the same household as me. They taught me how to cook, how to handle a firearm, and what to look for when you're out looting. What they lacked was any real affection for me. They never displayed any pride for teaching me nor offered any advice whenever I asked for some. We never spoke unless we had to, and I could never figure out why they were so distant with me.

My friends and I were in a gang, the "First Sons." We watched each other's backs, making sure no one was left behind. Back then, we were all too blind to see the truth, overconfident and deluded into thinking that we were the only ones who should live in this world. I used to be like that, but I changed. Now, nobody can even look at me the same way they did before.

No matter who I turn to, I am always turned down. When I tried to convince Sheriff Cole to let the man who saved my life to go free, he shot him in the head. When I tried to get Mayor Tyler to go for a diplomatic solution with our enemies, she sent people to gut their cattle. When I looked at my best friend in the eye and said that we shouldn't support a needless war, he said, "This isn't needless. This is our land, our territory. One of them may have saved your life, but the rest are going are die."

When I left, I left him a note saying, "I won't regret leaving, but you'll regret not listening to me."

I played with the idea of joining the Strangers, but they'd probably hate me. If it weren't for me, they would never have found out about my village. Hate and distrust is what caused this war, and I don't want to risk adding more fuel to the fire. So, armed with a leather backpack, leather armor, a machete, and an SMG, I left.

I haven't heard much of places outside my home, but I know that the Wasteland is a very dangerous place.

The man who saved me said he was from a place further west, said that it was one of the few perfect safe havens left on Earth.

Maybe I ought to visit this "New Vegas." Sounds like a good place as any for a fresh start.


	2. Risen

_"You've never heard of New Vegas? The one and only great oasis that survived the bombs?"_

_ "We've been over this, man. You either get your ass up and help or stay out of the way."_

_ "Hey, youngster, I got a job for you. You interested in visiting the Strip? _

_ "Truth is, the game was rigged from the start."_

X

For as long as I can remember, I have never had a god-honest dream or nightmare. I was always too focused on getting things done and planning for the future. I have my fears and my hopes, but they never come to me in my sleep. I guess that a good, long rest is something that shouldn't be interrupted.

I almost thought I was having a nightmare when I saw that my captors were Great Khans. They were a relatively rare sight in the Mojave, but they've survived years of getting their butts kicked by the NCR. They can hold their own in a fight.

While it was a surprise to see drug dealers kidnapping a total stranger, a man in a checkered suit was just out of place. I know people like to wear formal attire at the Strip, but we are in the middle of the desert. I've traveled across the Mojave in a suit once, and I do not recommend it.

The gunshot convinced me that it wasn't a dream. I thought I had gotten used to the sound, but the noise can be just so awfully loud. I've seen too many people die from a bullet, and I couldn't believe that I was the next to one to meet death. That damn gunshot would be the last thing I would ever hear, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

X

A working ceiling fan? Do my eyes deceive me? Does this place have electricity? And am I lying on a bed? With a mattress?

"You're awake. How about that."

I had such a darn headache. On instinct, I reached for my machete but discovered that I was naked save for a tank top and some shorts. My vision started to blur again as I tried to get up.

"Whoa, easy there." A pair of hands helped me into a sitting position. The blurring was starting to fade away, but I still felt a little disoriented. "You been out cold a couple of days now." The voice belonged to an old, bald man who had helped me up. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my legs with a slightly hunched back. Calm but calculating eyes were looking over me. "Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings." He handed me a cup of water, clean water. The headache was still there, but at least the dryness in my throat that I was ignoring was finally gone. "Can you tell me your name, son?"

Son? It's been a while since anyone's ever called me that. "Jace. The name's Jace." I rubbed my forehead and leaned back, taking in the scenery of my surroundings. "Where am I?"

He took back the cup and set it aside. "I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings." Mitchell handed me a small mirror, and I got to see to what extent that the bullet did to my face.

I guess I shouldn't complain too much. My hair still looked as pompadour as ever, and I still hadn't shaved off my little stubble. I had bloodshot eyes, but I'm sure that wouldn't last long. The only new addition to my face was a small red hole on the upper right of my temple. I've seen harsher scars, so this one didn't really bother me.

I looked up and smiled at my caretaker. "Goodsprings, you said?"

X

"All right. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind."

I nodded.

"Dog."

Dogs. I hate dogs, but they had their uses. "Train."

"House."

Abandoned houses usually meant relative safety and security for me. "Shelter."

"Night."

The dark can be great camouflage. "Shroud."

"Bandit."

They usually shoot first, but I've managed to convince some to find a better way to get by. "Reasonable."

"Light."

Naturally, opposes the, "Dark."

"Mother."

You all know how my relationship with her is like. "Caretaker."

"Okay. Now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say."

I suppose since this man had saved my life, I should continue to follow along with these tests.

"Conflict just ain't in my nature."

"Disagree." I wish that everyone could just get along, but there's always someone out there who won't work well with others. Like me.

"I ain't given to relying on others for support."

"No opinion." Whether if it's working on your own or with another, the end result is what counts.

"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention."

"Disagree." All I do is speak my mind. If I want to be heard, I will be heard.

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

"Disagree." What I do is play with ideas and test them to see if they can work out or not.

"I charge in to deal with my problems head-on."

"Disagree." I like to hope for the best but plan for the worst.

"Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see."

I nodded again.

. . . What am I looking at? "A broken chain."

"Okay. How about this one?"

". . . A ship at sea."

"Last one."

". . . A bearded man."

"Well, that's all she wrote."

Thank goodness. The bearded man brought back bad memories, mostly about my savior and how I let him die. I don't know what else might have popped up if there were more pictures.

X

Aside from a few caps and the missing poker chip, most of my belongings were still intact. Lightweight leather armor and the weight of a duffle bag on my back never felt so good. It was something that felt familiar, something that I know would be useful and help protect myself if trouble arises. After holstering my machete, I turned to the good doctor.

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc, and thanks for the Pip-Boy."

"Ah, don't mention it. It's what I 'm here for." He handed me my gun, my 12.7 mm submachine gun. I look over it as he kept speaking. "If you feel the need to stretch and see if your body is working alright, talk with Sunny Smiles at the Prospector Saloon. She can help you get back into the swing of things here in the Wasteland." With a nod of acknowledgment, I holstered my weapon." Also, that metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave, it'll be pretty hard for you to miss the guy if you want to speak with him."

Doc Mitchel, huh? Looks like I owe another man my life. It's not that I don't appreciate the help, but if I am really going to survive out there, I ought to stop being so reliant on other people saving me. "Thanks for the information. I appreciate it." As we made our way to the front door, I gave another smile.

He gave one right back. "Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come on back. I'll fix you up." He opened the door and gestured me for me to go on my way. As I made my way out, he said in a tired voice, "But try not to get killed anymore." I had to give a little chuckle, and when the door closed, I turned around and finally got a good look at Goodsprings.

There were signs of deteriorating wood on each building, but that was to be expected. A resident was tending to his crops in front of his home, and I could see an elderly man fiddling with a stick of dynamite walking up the road. As I took my first few steps into town, I began to hear a faint buzzing. To my right was-wait, a Securitron? A robot guard from New Vegas dug me out of a grave? I was delivering something to the Strip, so maybe-

"Howdy, pardner!" Apparently, my artificial savior had a thing for cowboys since there was an image of one on his screen. Why did he have such a unique face and not one of the standard "police" ones? "Might I say, you're looking fit as a fiddle." And he had an actual voice compared to the somewhat monotone one Securitrons usually spoke with.

With my curiosity growing by the minute, I responded. "Thanks for digging me out of that grave."

Victor gave a short laugh. So he had a personality programmed into him as well? "Don't mention it! I'm always ready to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need." A stranger? To my knowledge, I've never had any previous encounter with Victor, but he wasn't sent to help with my delivery?

"How did you happen to find me?"

"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard. Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs so I laid low. Once they'd run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kicking. Turns out, you were, so I hauled you off to the Doc right quick."

Out on a stroll, huh? Mitchell mentioned that Victor has been in town for a while. I crossed my arms but kept a smile up. "How'd you end up in Goodsprings?"

"I moseyed into town, oh, ten, fifteen years ago? Before that, I . . . hmmm, I can't quite seem to recall. Odd." Memory problems? If only Shannon was here. She was always tinkering with an old Protectron back at my village. I bet she would have loved dissecting Victor. Damn shame she was too blind like everyone else was. "Anyway, it's a right peaceful town and I reckon it's as fine a place to settle as any."

"With a doctor who can perform brain surgery and give away a Pip-Boy out of the goodness of his heart, I get the impression that Goodsprings is a popular place?"

Victor shook his upper body back and forth to simulate a shake of his head. "Not really. Town's pretty small compared to settlements out further west, and travelers stopped using I-15 to head to New Vegas. Bandits, Fiends, and critters out making too much trouble. Town won't be bled dry, though, and it's getting by just fine on its own."

Interesting. "Speaking of bandits, can you tell me anything about the men who attacked me?"

"Can't say that I'm familiar with the rascals. Some of the fine folks in town might be able to help you out with that."

Well, I suppose I can start by asking that Sunny person Doc mentioned. "Thanks for the information, Victor. Guess I'll be seeing you around." I walked pass him and headed to the saloon.

"Happy trails!" he shouted behind me before rolling away.

I began to ponder about my situation. So, a guy in suit and some Great Khans stole a platinum poker chip that I was supposed to deliver to New Vegas. Mr. Checkered Suit is probably either from Vegas or New Reno.

In the years following my departure from my village, I eventually found myself working for the Bishop family in Reno. Mr. Bishop and I had met while on the run from slavers (long story). We both shared an interest in traveling the Wasteland, and I gained enough trust to earn a job as a guard at the Shark Club. Unfortunately, one thing led to another, and I had to leave New Reno for good. The Wrights might have finally found me and sent a hitman, but his last words to me kept bothering me.

_"Truth is, the game was rigged from the start."_

What game? He must have been talking about the delivery. He said it was rigged, so maybe there might be some sort of power struggle between the Three Families and the chip had a part to play with it. But what? It was just a fancy looking poker chip.

I had too many questions, but I put them aside. For now, I wanted to see a little more of Goodsprings. I could never find the time to visit this place, so I might as well take what I can get.

X

"Let's head back to the Saloon. I'll treat you to a drink, and I bet Trudy's gonna want to pay you for fixing the radio."

"Thanks," I said as I put my freshly made healing powder made away into my bag," but I don't drink. I'll take the caps, though."

"Suit yourself." Sunny patted Cheyenne on the head and started the trek back.

Smiles seemed like a decent person. She protects her town and was kind enough to show me a new recipe. I always wondered how to make healing powder, but never found the time to learn. Cheyenne seemed like a loyal pup, but I kept my distance.

As we walked along the road, I looked towards the sun, my mind wandering. The sun would set in a few hours. With the daylight dwindling, I ought to wait till tomorrow to head back to Primm and ask Nash about the delivery. Goodsprings has seen better days, but I don't want to stay to long. Maybe I'll come back one day to see if it requires a helping hand. The town's in much better condition than some tribal villages up north, and it'd be a shame if it would get worse.

After a nod towards Easy Pete, we entered the Saloon and were met with a man in Kevlar and a woman glaring at each other. The woman, crossing her arms, said, "We'll keep that in mind. Now, if you're not gonna buy something, get out."

The man shoved us out of his way as he left. At my bemused expression, Sunny brought me towards the woman and introduced her. "Jace, this is Trudy, proud owner of the Prospector Saloon. Trudy, this is Jace, the guy who fixed your radio."

Trudy's tense attitude softened and gave way for an amused face. "Well, you caused quite a stir. Glad I finally got to meet you." We shook hands. "Welcome to the Prospector Saloon. I heard you fixed up my radio. Here's your payment."

I took the offered bad of caps and stashed it away. "Thanks." Sunny gave me a pat on the back and walked away, Cheyenne following closely. "I'm trying to track down the people who attacked me. Know anything about them?"

Trudy frowned. "Not much, other than they're a bunch of freeloaders who expected a few rounds on the house. I was able to get them to pay up, though. I didn't hear exactly, but the leader was talking about the Strip."

Of course. "Thanks for the information, and for the caps. Who was that guy you were talking with?"

Trudy's glare from earlier returned, redirected towards the wooden floor. "He's a convict. Just without the chains. Said his name was Cobb. 'Powder Gangers' is what they call themselves. Plenty more like him out there."

Cobb. . . Doesn't sound familiar, but a convict? "I don't recall seeing a jailhouse here in Goodsprings."

"The NCR brought prisoners in from California to work on the rail lines," Trudy clarified. "Problem is, it turns out that giving criminals a bunch of dynamite and blasting powder isn't the best idea. Was a big escape not too long ago. Some of 'em stuck together so they could make trouble. That's what we're dealing with now."

"Sounds like just another gang looking for a fight. Was Cobb trying to extort you?"

Trudy gave a sigh and rubbed her forehead. "It looks like our little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with. About a week ago, this trader, Ringo, comes into town."

Ringo?

"Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him, needs a place to hide. We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. We didn't actually expect anyone to come after him."

I was surprised; I had a friend named Ringo, and he was also a trader. "This Ringo give his last name?"

A pause. "McGrath, I think. Why, you know him?"

"Yeah." He was part of the reason Mr. Bishop and I got back to New Reno alive. "He's an old friend, haven't seen him in months. Where is he?"

"He's holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill."

"Thanks Trudy." I ran out and made my way to him.

X

"How am I not surprised you survived a shot to the head?" Ringo handed me a bottle of Nuka Cola.

I took a swig and gave him a smile. "Because I'm like a cockroach; I'll live through a nuclear explosion. Anyway, let's talk about getting you and the Powder Gangers." Ringo grimaced as he examined his gun, a 9mm pistol. "A few of them are down the road, south, keeping an eye out for you, and the way north is too dangerous to sneak through. It's only a matter of time until more come and pillage the town."

He set his gun down on the counter and took out a cigarette. After a nervous puff of smoke, he said, "These guys are better armed than drunk slavers. I know you're capable, Jace, but we'll be pretty outnumbered." He leaned back on the wall and put a hand in a pocket, gazing into space. After a moment of silence, he stood up straight and turned to me. "Maybe we could get some people from town, make a stand for when Cobb and his crew finally show up."

That sounded like a good idea. From what I've seen, Goodsprings lacks a regulated militia, with the residents defending themselves when necessary. More bodies defending meant the Power Ganger's focus will be more divided during the oncoming fight. Plus, a display of power may encourage any future raiders to look somewhere else to loot from.

"I'll round up whoever I can." After another gulp, I set my drink down and headed out.

X

About 40 minutes later, Trudy, Pete, Ringo and a few others set themselves up in front of the Saloon. They were waiting behind some improvised cover: broken down trucks, motorcycles, and some rather sturdy wooden crates. Sunny and I were on top of the Saloon, prone and armed with Varmant rifles. Chet had graciously given us scopes, free of charge, and we had dynamite to the side, ready to be ignited and thrown.

Sunny nudged me. "Time to look alive; Powder Gangers are here."

I looked up and saw them. There were about six. While two stayed on the road and started shooting, Cobb and the rest made dash to the right for cover behind some ruined buildings. The Goodsprings Militia focused fire on his group as Sunny and I took out the two on the road.

In the corner of my eye, I saw another Ganger fall, and Sunny took out a stick of dynamite. Without taking my gaze off the battlefield, I shouted towards our allies on the ground, "Push them back!" To Sunny, I said, "Like we planned," and handed her a stick of dynamite and grabbed one for myself.

A fourth target fell, and the remaining two began to head towards the Bullhorn pen. Before they could get far, however, Smiles and I threw our explosives as hard as we could. They landed right at Cobb's feet.

While Cobb dove for cover behind a rock, his lackey ran right over the sticks just as they exploded. Smoke and gore filled the air just as the sun began to set. The militia proceeded cautiously, the dust blocking their vision.

Looking through my scope, I nudged Sunny. "You see Cobb?"

After a moment of silence, she let out a yell. "He's making a run for it!" She started shooting at a figure to the side of her house, but he disappeared around the corner. Ringo and another Goodsprings resident followed closely and began to spray and pray. Unfortunately, their weapons clicked, out of ammo. With that, I saw Cobb running down the road.

He didn't make it very far. I managed to hit his leg before finishing it off with a headshot. After another look around the town, I hollered, "It's clear, we got them all." Everyone let out a yell of triumph.

As Sunny and I got up and made our way down, she said, "Nice shooting, Jace. Sure glad you were here to help organize this."

I was flattered, but I liked to be modest most of the time. "Cobb and his gang would have attacked eventually. I just made sure you were all ready sooner rather than later."

"And for that, thanks for the help."

X

"To Jace," Trudy said, holding up a glass cup. We were inside the Saloon, celebrating our victory.

"To Jace," the crowd responded.

While everyone took another swig, I sat on a stool and looked around. "Thanks for the appreciation, but this isn't over." Some gave a puzzled expression. With a sigh, I spoke up again. "The Powder Gangers will probably come back, maybe with more men." An uneasy silence followed. "I suggest setting up some more defenses and guards to keep an eye out for them. Have a plan ready if shit hits the fan."

Laurie, the woman I had saved at Goodsprings Source, asked, "Are you gonna help us with that, too?"

I shook my head. "As much as I'd like to, I can't stay. I need to head back to Primm and help Ringo here get back to the Crimson Caravan Company."

Ringo chimed in. "I'll come back with supplies. Trudy and I have been talking, and we're working and a deal to help improve the situation here."

I nodded. "I'm sure that everything will work out. Now, does anyone have a place where I can sleep? It's been a long day."

"You could sleep in my house." I set my gaze to the Doc. "You can use the bed you've been using for the past week."

"Thanks Doc." I rose and left the Saloon. Before leaving, I gave my final farewell. "Have a nice night, everyone!"

X

The Powder Gangers would sure be a problem. Fiends are just raiders on drugs, and Jackals usually keep to themselves these days. These Gangers seem to be organized and are working together in great numbers. Guess that's another thing on my to-do list: eliminate another raider gang.

After helping Ringo get home, I can refocus my efforts and tracking down the guy who tried to kill me. Someone wearing a checkered suit should be pretty easy for someone to remember. If he is in Vegas, I ought to stock up in caps along the way. I just hope that I can find him and get some answers.

Tomorrow, we'll head to Primm and work off from there. That sounded as a good a plan as any. Hopefully, the Powder Gangers haven't attacked there yet. For now, I need some sleep.

At least I'll have Ringo with me. He saved my life, and my debt to him will finally be paid.


	3. Friends

Ringo always liked the strength in numbers. Said it was part of the reason he joined the Crimson Caravan. He and Mr. Bishop taught me how to gain followers, convince people to follow my lead even if it was for a short time. You need to give them something to gain for helping you. Caps, food, friendship; if you present a good deal to someone, they'll work with you.

Goodsprings is in need of more weapons and armor. With the Powder Gangers running around and the NCR sitting on their asses, a resident accompanied Ringo and me when we left the next morning. He said that folks called him Joe. I recalled that he was part of our improvised militia and welcomed his help.

"Thanks again for helping us defend the town," he said, equipped with a Varmint rifle and leather armor as we made our way south.

"I like lending out a helping hand every once in a while," I responded. To Ringo, I asked, "So, I do my business in Primm while you two tag along and make your way to the Company?"

He nodded. "Yeah, we'll help with you little investigation, but I'm pretty sure a caravan's gonna come across the Mojave Outpost in a few days. We can just wait and travel with them."

Like I said, strength in numbers. I shook my head. "Guess we'll go our separate ways once we get to the outpost then. I want to keep moving and catch up to the guy who shot me. I need answers."

Ringo gave me a smile and patted my back. "As much as I miss the good old days, I don't feel like going on another long-term adventure with you. Nearly broke my back, remember?"

Aw, memories. "It was the time of your life, though, right?"

"Damn it, Jace, you _pushed me off a cliff_ and –"

"Hold on, guys." Joe spoke up. "Ain't that an NCR flag?"

He was right; there was one attached to a lamppost by the road into Primm. Was the town annexed while I was gone?

As we kept walking, an NCR trooper came running toward us. "Hey, where the hell do you think you're going? Primm's off limits."

"I live here," I said. "Been out of town for a bit. What happened?"

"Some convicts from the prison up the road have taken over the town. Everyone is either dead or in hiding."

"How many convicts are there? Why haven't you guys taken them out yet?"

"There's at least ten of them. Probably more. We haven't helped out yet because Primm doesn't fall under NCR jurisdiction. Even if they did, we're in no shape to protect them. We don't have enough hardware or bodies to do so. We're just here to make sure the convicts don't move further down and towards the Mojave Outpost."

Typical NCR: if you're not with them, you can rot in hell for all they care. It's only by accident that they can help you out once in a while. "How long ago did this whole thing start?"

"About a week ago."

I was shot a week ago, and the NCR haven't gotten the reinforcements needed to take out the convicts? To my right, Ringo asked, "How many soldiers do you have stationed here?"

The trooper responded, "6 troopers under Lieutenant Hayes. You can talk with him if you have more questions. Just check the tents down the road."

"Thanks," Ringo said. As we started walking, he and I made eye contact. "What do you think?"

"That guy said that some townsfolk are in hiding. I've met and worked with some of the residents, and I'm pretty sure at least 5 people would have made it out alive and are holed up somewhere. With them, NCR, and the three of us, I bet we could take back the town. Three lightly armed men probably won't be enough to convince Hayes, though."

Ringo nodded. "Joe and I'll talk with him, learn more about the situation. You can do some recon, look for your friends. What do you say Joe."

Joe said, "Fine by me. I trust that you'll organize another militia again, right?"

I smiled. "Most likely. This town's been good to me." With that, we parted ways as I made a turn to the bridge and gave a running start.

I ignored the NCR trooper who gave a yell as I flew over the frag mines. When I landed, I took out my SMG. Crouched, I headed towards the Vicki and Vance Casino. Hugging the wall, I made my way around and towards the sheriff's house. Maybe McBain was hiding out in there with his wife. Unfortunately, two convicts were hanging around the front of the building, one fiddling with tire iron and another with a pistol. Their nonchalant manner of simply sitting there probably meant that they had raided the house and killed whoever was alive inside.

After scouting around Primm and finding no one alive, I came to the conclusion that any survivors and the rest of the convicts would be in either the casino or the Bison Steve Hotel.

I silently trekked around the back of the McBain house. Drawing my machete, I dashed around the corner and slashed the one with the gun across his throat. Before his pal had time to react, I brought my blade downward into his skull. Looking around for any more targets but finding none, I quietly made my way towards the casino's front entrance. I knocked and waited for a response.

X

"Good to see that you're still alive, youngster." I always like Nash. He could see the potential in everything like I could. He saw the potential in the Mojave Express, in the "other New Vegas," and in me. I'm glad to have met the man.

He and I were sitting on some stools alongside some casino slots. Including Nash and his wife, there were about nine residents still kicking. With these numbers and a little NCR support, we could probably take back the town. I pitched my idea to Nash, but he shook his head.

"We got nothing to offer them," he said. "They'll just want to annex us afterwards. We want to stay independent, and we'll handle this problem ourselves."

"The convicts killed six people, Nash. We gotta push back eventually."

"I know," he sighed, "but we're just too tired to take back the hotel right now. We're low on ammo and barley have any armor."

I gave a sigh and closed my eyes. He was right; the town's resolve was weakened. The convicts I just killed were wearing standard merc leather while everyone else is wearing regular old cloth. Unfortunately for me, I had nothing to offer to help them rise up and fight. I guess I'll have to do this myself. "How many convicts are there?"

Nash took out a cigarette. "There's probably ten, eleven still inside the hotel."

I gave a nod and rose from my seat. "I came back into town with a few friends. We'll handle it."

Nash looked surprised. "How many of you are there?"

I smiled. "Just enough."

X

Ringo, Joe, and I were gathered over a table in one of the rooms in the casino. With my left hand, I was holding my machete. My right held the loaded 10mm pistol that one convict had. Joe had out his rifle while Ringo had his 9mm at the ready. It was about noon now, and my two companions had failed to gain support from Hayes.

"NCR might be the caravan's best customers," Ringo said, "but I had nothing on me to offer him."

"It's alright," I said. "Now, I drew a map of the first floor of the Bison Steve Hotel." I placed it on the table for all to see. I pointed at one area of the map. "This is the rotunda, well lit and plenty of space. Plus, right next to it is a kitchen. Let's assume there will be a high concentration of convicts in here. A lot of the second floor rooms are blocked off, but there's enough space for a few of them to set up defenses."

Ringo asked, "Are there any other exits aside from the front door?"

I shook my head. "There was an entrance that leads to the roller coaster, but that's blocked off, too. Only way in is through the front." I set down my firearm and drew from my bag a stick of dynamite. "We'll open the doors. and I'll chuck this in there. I'll run through the dust and hide behind the front desk. Ringo and I will push forward and make our way further inside." At Joe's questioning look, I said, "You'll stay outside, take out any stragglers that try to escape. Make your way to one of the rooftops outside and set up your own little sniping nest. Think you can handle that?"

"I prefer settling things with my fists," Joe responded, "but I can do that."

"Good," I placed the stick back into storage and picked up my gun. "There's at least ten of these guys, but possibly more. There's not a lot of power inside the hotel, so only a few lights will be on. Keep your eyes and ears open."

At that moment, Nash arrived. "Hey, boys. Listen, Jace, you remember Deputy Beagle?"

I paused and processed the name in my head. "Yeah, the polite but incompetent one."

Nash nodded. "Yeah, him. Ye see, thing is that the convicts have taken him hostage. Was wondering if you could look for him and bring him back alive."

Beagle . . . I didn't really like him. He was lazy, and an idiot. But, if Nash is asking me, I suppose I'll accept his little request. "We'll keep an eye out for him."

"Thanks, youngster. Wish you luck." Before turning to leave, he grabbed my shoulder and made me look at him. "Don't do anything to reckless, you hear me?" I had a feeling that he wouldn't let go until I gave him an answer.

"Of course," I said. With that, he left the room.

I really wanted to ask him about the delivery I was hired to do, but he is just way too stressed right now. I guess old age and losing some old friends is really getting to him even after what happened during these past few years. Only way I can really help him out is to take out these convicts.

X

"Well," I said as I cut off the rope that restrained Beagle, bullets flying over our heads. I handed him my pistol as we took cover behind a stove. "I guess karma's a bitch, huh Beagle?"

"I suppose," he said before returning fire.

God, I dislike him. He just acts way too nice when he is such a coward.

After another explosion, the gunshots stopped. I heard Ringo shout, "That's the last of them!" Two shots rang out. "Just making sure!"

I shoved Beagle. "Let's go."

When the three of us left the front door, we were greeted with six dead bodies. I looked up, expecting to see Joe prone on top of Nash's house. He was there, but he was fighting for control over his rifle with another convict. None of us had a clear shot, so I ran.

Guess I didn't have to because just as I was about to start sprinting, I saw Joe gain the upper hand. He hit the convict in the jaw with the butt of the rifle, but the gun fell off the roof. The convict stumbled backwards, and Joe grabbed him and threw him off as well. _Threw him_, like how you throw a grenade. The convict went through an arc and broke his neck as he made contact with the ground. I looked up. Joe nodded and turned to make his way down.

Had no idea that Joe was that strong. Now I know not to get into a fist fight with him. I feel better knowing that I have a companion both proficient with a rifle and skilled with close range combat.

X

"I was wondering if I could ask you some things about the delivery I made when I left last week." I handed Nash the delivery order. "Someone in a checkered suit with a few Great Khans stole my package." We were back in his house. He was sitting behind the front desk while I was standing up, waiting for a response.

"Oh," Nash said, eyes widening, "You're talking about one of them packages. Had strange written all over them, but we couldn't turn down the caps."

"Strange how?"

"That cowboy robot had us hire six couriers." Victor? "Each was carrying something a little different. A pair of dice, a chess piece, that kind of stuff. Last word I had from the office, it looked like payment had been received for the other five jobs. Guess it was just your chip that didn't make it."

Oh yeah, I was shot in the head. Well, Nash doesn't need to know that.

Nash's expression turned unexpectedly sour. "First deadbeat we hired to do the job canceled. Hope a storm from the Divide skins him alive." He calmed himself down. "Well, that's where you came in."

"Why'd he cancel?"

This time, Nash had a solemn expression. "Yeah, got this look when he saw you next down on the Courier list. His expression turned right around, asked me if your name was for real." My name? "I said, sure as lack of rain, you were still kicking. Then he turned down the job, just like that. I asked if he was sure, it was good money. 'No, let Courier Six carry the package,' that's what he said - like the Mojave'd sort you out or something. Then he just up and walked out." With concern, he looked at me in the eye. "Did you make yourself another enemy, son?"

_Son_. That's the second time this year someone's referred to me son, but Nash knows I don't really like being called that. Guess he really does care about me. "I actually have a list of people who I know are still alive and want me dead. What did this guy look like?"

"Was in regular old caravaneer clothing, dark skin, but he had dreadlocks. I heard rumors of a tribe out east that specialized in dreadlocks, but I've got no idea if that's related."

". . . Doesn't sound familiar, but I'll keep an eye out people with that particular hair style. Anyway, I was wondering if you had seen the guys that stole the package."

"Well, now that you mention it, a few nights back one of the townies was out scavenging for supplies. He said he saw a fella with a daisy suit come through with some of them Great Khan misfits. They was talking about a chip, the platinum chip I presume, and about meeting up with someone in Novac. You might find your guy there."

I gave a small grin; I finally found myself a solid lead. Before I could thank Nash for his help, someone opened the front door from behind me.

"Good to see you, Ruby," I greeted. She smiled and shook my hand, thanking me for getting rid of those convicts.

"And it's about time you got back, too," she said. "This little thing turned itself off during the whole time those trouble-makers were here, hiding in one of the casino's back rooms. Someone said it was doing maintenance work. Now, here you are and it's back to floating around and doing nothing but take up space." She directed my gaze towards something behind her.

It was ED-E, or Ed as I like to call it, my somewhat reliable eye-bot. I had found it outside of Primm a couple of years back and fixed it up. Since then, it's been a loyal follower of mine. I had left it in the care of Primm Slim when I took the delivery job. Maybe if I had brought Ed with me, I wouldn't have gotten shot in the head. Oh well.

X

It was about 4:30 pm when my party of four left Primm. Nash said that he'd start looking for a new sheriff. NCR decided to stay and give any support if more convicts showed up.

When I brought Ed with me, Joe was a little surprised but went along with it. "I was part of a band once," he said. "Our manager owned an eye-bot."

All Ringo had to say was, "Well, at least it isn't a Super Mutant. As long as it doesn't try to kill us in our sleep, I'm okay with it coming with us."

He never really forgave me for that incident. I don't think Mr. Bishop did, either.

About two hours later, we arrived at the Mojave Outpost. I could never figure out how the NCR found time to build a monument like that with all of the problems it's facing. Nevertheless, we sat down at the bar and had a few drinks. Ringo had wine, Joe had beer, and I, of course, had some Nuka Cola. Ed stood, or I should say "hovered," guard next to us, earning a few glances from the troopers but nothing more.

I leaned forward on the counter and began what I like to call my "Daily Contemplation." My human companions planned on waiting for that caravan while Ed and I head towards Novac. To do that, I'll have to pass through Nipton. Nipton's a shithole, but I don't plan on staying the night there.

Who was that "deadbeat" anyway? I went through my list and found no one who wore dreadlocks. I've never even met that tribe mentioned. It's a long shot whether or not I'll get to meet this guy, but I'm more focused on tracking down Mr. Checkered Suit. I hope I'll have an easier time discovering Mr. Suit's real name.

And Victor. It was probably Victor who set that job up. Maybe Mister House wanted one of the packages but so did Mr. Suit?

My train of thought was broken when someone's arm brushed against mine. To my right was a woman. She wore a brown leather jacket, a plaid shirt, worn out jeans, a cowboy hat, and a peculiar diamond shaped pendant, hung from her neck.

After she took another gulp of whiskey, she turned to me. "Looking for trouble?"

"Just minding my own business," I replied

"Your business, huh? Now there's a store worth tending." She gave a small chuckle. "Now you run along now . . . judging by that busted pilot light expression you're fixed with, 'business' ain't so good."

I paused. "I suppose things could be better in my life, but you take what you can get. How about a drink?"

"'How about a drink?' How about a couple is what you mean." Oh, god, I better have not met another asshole-drunk. "Drinking to forget and it's only making me mad instead. Whiskey always gets my temper up – now more than ever." Damn, she probably is one.

Well, I've got a few hours to kill. Might as well learn about this stranger's story. With a neutral expression, I asked "What are you trying to forget?"

"Lost my caravan heading north. Everyone and everything, even the cargo, burned to ash."

Everything was burned? Odd. "Doesn't sound like raiders."

"My guess is Legion, trying to cut off the NCR supply line." She took another swig and frowned. "Mojave Outpost is locked up tight. No caravans in or out and just try arguing about it with Jackson. 'Roads aren't safe,' he says."

Oh, Jackson's still stationed here! Maybe he has more work for me. "I've met him. Nice impersonation."

"Yeah, he's been with NCR so long all he can see is the worst outcome of everything – so he doesn't do anything." Which is how I get paid, by doing everything for him. "Jackson won't let me head north and even though my caravan's gone, my caravan papers are keeping me here." Her expression grew distant, as if thinking back on something, before shaking her head and taking another swig.

Maybe I can help another troubled soul today. "With everything gone, why not burn up the papers too and move on." She didn't reply. "Or do you feel the need to hold on to the caravan even though nothing's left?"

The stranger gave a sigh. "I made the caravan what it is. It's mine. Besides, Dad'd spin like a twister if he heard I got rid of our name for anything."

"But you feel trapped here, caged. Most people I've met who worked for caravans said that part of the reason for joining up was to travel the Wasteland. What was yours?"

"Actually, it sort of fell on me. My feet get antsy if I stay in one place, like the Mojave Outpost. Occurred to me I could scratch the traveling itch and get paid for it. Cassidy Caravans formed around me, rest is history."

"Exactly. You don't want to stay here, and from what you've told me, the caravan _is _history, literally. Unless you have the caps and the support to bring it back up, you are going to be stuck here for a long time."

"Yeah . . ." She was silent for a while, probably thinking about what I just said. ". . . but this was my life for a long time. It just doesn't feel right to just let it all go." She frowned and shook her head. "Besides, where would I go without the caravan? Back West? The idea of heading back there with my tail between my legs isn't appealing."

Cassidy Caravans, huh? "You see those that guy with the wine bottle?" I pointed towards Ringo, who was listening to Joe about his time as a musician. "He's part of the Crimson Caravan. He can show all of the official paperwork to confirm it. Anyway, he and I have history, and I bet he can get you a spot with a caravan that's coming over in a few days if you really want to return to that business."

Judging from the look on her face, it looked like she was seriously considering my offer.

"Or, you can tag along with me."

She pulled back a little, surprised. "Go with you? And why the hell would I do that?"

I smiled. "Two strangers meeting together, traveling together, and, one day, falling in love with each other! Sounds romantic, doesn't it."

She paused. "How old are you? You look a little too young for me."

"I'm twenty-two, and I was just joking about us hooking up. Anyway, why shouldn't you come with me? My memory's a tad fuzzy due to a head injury," I gestured toward my scar. ", so I could use someone who knows the roads."

"So you're looking for someone to help, not just tag along? Hnh." I finally got her to give a legitimate smile. "Walking the Mojave with you can't be any worse than here, that's for sure." She's probably going to eat her words if she hangs out with me long enough. After another moment of silence, she spoke up. "Alright, I'm in." She raised her hand towards me, and I shook it.

"The name's Jace."

"You can call me Cass." After releasing our grip, she got off her stool. "Well, time to officially destroy Cassidy Caravans, huh? Why'd you try so hard to convince me to leave, anyway?"

I shrugged and lost my smile. "The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself; you were sick and tired of something. Pissed off, but there was nothing you could do to change things. It seemed like you were losing reasons to live for, lost in depression." I looked away, closed my eyes, and gave a sigh before looking back. "I was like that once, but it took me months to find a new purpose in life, and that was partly thanks to a kind stranger. I thought today I could also help another troubled soul." I raised my drink and with, another smile, gave her a salute. "I look forward to working with you, Miss Cassidy. We'll leave tomorrow morning, alright?"

Cass gave a smile of her own and waved back as she left the building. "Sure, Jace. I'll see you around."

X

_**BONUS SCENE**_

"And that was how the band broke up."

"Damn, Joe, sorry to hear that. And this was all connected to a bunch of Radroaches?"

"Had to be, man. So many of those little bastards were found backstage, Abe was lucky enough to make it out alive. Besides, the Crow of Death was seen that night."

"Crow of Death?"

"Yeah, that story goes back way before our time, back when Shady Sands was just a tribal village. In a nutshell, whenever you are just standing still, doing nothing, accomplishing nothing, and if you gaze into the eyes of a woman at 1 am in the morning, someone will kill you. The Crow of Death will be seen leaving the area afterwards. Those who were close to the victim are then plagued by dreams, in danger of being the next one to die."

"I . . . find that hard to believe."

"It's true! I keep having the same dream over and over again! There's always a red-haired man in a duster, a Deathclaw, a woman who actually looked like the one Jace was talking to, and a ghoul in a suit. The man, who was a stranger, keeps asking me questions and somehow knows my whole name, but his damn Deathclaw kept eyeing me up. Later, the woman and the ghoul kneel before me and just keep staring at into my eyes. The next thing I know, I feel a guy use a knife to cut my legs and all feeling below my neck is gone before I black out. When the darkness fades, that red-haired guy gives me sunglasses, comes up right to my face, and starts mumbling about "naming me" and somehow spawns a Mister Gusty robot out of thin air! I know I'm next, man! I know it!"

"Woah, Joe! Calm down, man. Deathclaws are wild animals, there's no way they can be domesticated. Besides, it's just a dream. Don't let a superstition destroy your life. You took out 6 guys all on your own, and did you see how far you threw that one guy? No one's gonna take you down that easily, man. Trust me."

"I . . . guess so. Damn, I need another drink. This is to you, Abe, wherever you are."

_Elsewhere_

"Wait, how the hell can this thing turn a few mutilated limbs and into a living thing that looks like a ghoul?"

"Look, rookie, you don't question Mr. S. okay? He has 15 PhDs or something."

"What the hell is a PhD?"

"I don't know, just get back to work!"


	4. Connections

Ringo and Joe decided to tag along with Cass, Ed, and me to Nipton. Someone owed Ringo some caps, and Joe didn't feel like staying at the Outpost all alone. Like I said, Nipton was a shithole, but a bigger party meant it would be less likely we would get robbed. I could take solace in that! Plus, while those two along with my eye-bot keep an eye out for raiders during a walk to the city of the damned, I could get to know more about my newest companion.

We began the trek down the hill, pass broken down cars and leaving the NCR monument behind, at about 9 am. After readjusting her shotgun on her back with a sling, Cass popped a question to me. "So, where are you from, Jace?"

I never exactly enjoyed talking about my past, but a wise man once told me that you can't understand what lies ahead if you don't understand the past. Learning Pre-War history is one of my favorite hobbies. Personal history? Well, I wanted to get to know more about Cass, so I ought to satisfy her curiosity, too. "I grew up in a tribal village, east of Legion territory."

Cass nodded. "My mom was a tribal. She was from East of the Colorado, though, not sure what tribe. Was before the time Caesar rounded them up, made them Legion. She walked a hell of a way until she crossed paths with my Dad and he convinced her to stop walking. And lucky for me, he was a horny old bastard. What about your parents?"

Oh joy! Talking about my parents! "They taught me how to survive, to fight, but I think I they bore me just to have another body to help the village. They probably never really loved me, but I think I turned out okay."

Cass shrugged. "Hardly know ya, but you seem like a nice guy. Anyway, where are we going next after Nipton?"

"I was a courier for the Mojave Express. A guy in a checkered suit stole my package, a platinum chip. I'm tracking him down, and evidence suggests he might have passed through Novac. Think you've seen a guy like that?"

She gave a frown. "Haven't heard about any man dressed like a seat cover. Still . . . suit means money, and suits stand out, especially here in the Mojave. One of the larger towns, or Vegas, might be the place to go."

I nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I was bringing the chip to Vegas, so there's a high possibility he might be there."

Our conversation was cut short when Joe cut in. "Hey, guys, I see a lot of smoke coming from Nipton."

Cass and I looked up and saw that he was right. I'm pretty sure that the residents don't usually have bonfires, so there was probably an attack. We all drew out our guns as we approached the town. Once we got closer, I noticed faintly familiar flags set up by the road into Nipton: the shape of a yellow bull plastered on to a crimson background. In other words, Caesar's Legion.

Ringo and Cass immediately grew very tense. Ringo had a grudge with slavers in general, and Cass probably preferred avoiding an army of sexist men. Joe displayed no visible change in his mannerisms. Me? A part of me was rejoicing; Nipton finally got what it deserved! Karma's a bitch, huh?

Another part of me was a bit worried. If the Legion has the resources to destroy a town like Nipton, right on a road frequently used by travelers heading to the infamous, New Vegas, and have no one notice it, they might have the strength to take back Hoover Dam. With NCR troops mostly sitting down all day, I bet the Legion have been training their butts off the whole time. Everyone knows that war is coming, and it definitely won't be pretty.

However, another part, my curiosity, got very excited. I rarely interacted with the Legion when I left my village, and all of my knowledge of them came from second-hand sources. Unless they try to crucify us or something, I would really like to ask them a bit about their organization.

"Alright," I began, "do you guys want to head around town or go investigate?"

Cass spoke up. "I'd rather we not head into an area potentially filled with Legion."

"I think we should head back, tell the NCR that Nipton's been attacked," Ringo suggested.

I nodded. Before I could voice my support, however, I noticed Legionnaires slowly walking toward us from all sides. Some had spears ready to be thrown while others held a machete to their side. They probably saw our party approaching and snuck around us. I noticed that Joe was discreetly observing the crimson-clad soldiers, and he gave me a look asking, "Plan?"

"Let them come closer, make the first move," I whispered. I caught the attention of my three other companions and continued. "Joe and I will take out those within an arm's length away. Ed, you start shooting." I motioned vaguely northward. "Head to that ditch, but try to avoid those spears. We can work off from there." I stopped abruptly when a rather conspicuous Legion soldier came up to us. He was wearing the head of a fox. Dark, tinted goggles further shrouded his face.

"Don't worry, I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of the degenerates. It's useful that you happened by."

Degenerates, what a fitting word.

"I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar's Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across."

I couldn't help but give a smile. "What 'lessons' did you teach here, stranger?"

He gave a smile of his own. "Where to begin? That they are weak, and we are strong? This much was known already. But the depths of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson. It was a wicked place, debased and corrupt. It served all comers, so long as they paid. Profligate troops, Powder Gangers, men of the Legion such as myself - the people here didn't care. It was a town of whores." Finally! Someone agrees with me that they were all filthy whores! "For a pittance, the town agreed to lead those it had sheltered into a trap. Only when I sprang it did they realize they were caught inside it, too."

Despite the reputation that the Legion holds, I admire the ferocity and mercilessness of their tactics. They inspire fear, and they can see the potential in individuals of becoming another soldier. A lot of people die while resisting, but the Legion's targets generally submit. Those who submit either become slaves, are crucified, or are indoctrinated and trained into loyal followers. Well-disciplined troops and an experienced leader can cause a lot of damage. One of the few times I've seen them at work was back during the First Battle of Hoover Dam, and the Malpais Legate's command was impressive.

Mr. Fox Head seems to have a calm and confident demeanor. It's said that flattery will get you nowhere, but if he wasn't Legion and was in a different line of work, I have a feeling that he may be a man worth venerating to many for the things he is capable of. "I'd say that Nipton got what it was coming to it."

He nodded. "Yes, they did. As will all the rest of them, in due time." He turned to leave. "Now go, and teach them what you learned here. There will be more lessons in the days ahead."

Just as he and his entourage began to exit the area, I asked, "Think I can get the name of the guy who 'purified' this shithole?"

The man paused in his stride, turned back, and said. "I am Vulpes Inculta, of Caesar's Legion. I serve my master as the greatest of his Frumentarii. That is all you need to know." With that, he went on his merry way.

Once they were only a speck in the distance, past the fires and smoke, Ringo spoke up. "As enlightening as that was, I think we should head back now. Don't really feel like seeing what they did to this place."

"You can head back," I said, "but "I'll stay for a bit, scavenge what I can and then continue to Novac."

Ringo sighed and shook his head. "Whatever you say, Jace. Just don't die out there. See ya." He turned back towards the Mojave Outpost with Joe soon lagging behind him.

Before I could question Cass's opinion on what just happened, she said snappily. "What's with you acting so friendly with the Legion?" Ed started to hover closer to my side, as if to protect its owner if Cass decided to lash out with violence.

With a calm voice, I replied, "I've never personally met anyone who was part of the Legion. I was curious, and I like to give out good impressions."

Cass was still frowning. "And that part about approving destroying an entire town?"

I shrugged. "Nipton _is _a shithole. No one's going to give a damn about who died here. If the NCR, Legion, or a raider gang doesn't take it over, someone is going to rebuild this town eventually." We made eye contact. "You can't create something without destroying something."

There was a silence between us, her face frustrated while mine expressionless.

I spoke again. "Do you support the NCR with a passion?"

She spoke slowly but strongly. "NCR's my country, and I support it. Anyone who says otherwise, I'll feed them my knee." Her stare momentarily softened but hardened not long afterward. "I know which side of the firing line I'm on in the Mojave, just so you know."

After another short silence, I said, "My true allegiance is to myself and the friends I've made over the years. I asked you to come with me hoping to earn another companion." I raised my hand to her, asking for a handshake. "All I can say is that there are pros and cons to everything. I can see what Caesar's Legion and the Republic are capable of. I disagree with some of their methods, but there's something to learn from both of them." She looked at my hand and back to me. "I'm not their enemy, and I'm not your enemy, Miss Cassidy."

The wait was not as long as the others once Cass shook my hand. "I gotta say, you have a way with words." We withdrew out palms. "You're right; there are ups and downs in everything, and I have to admit that the NCR is far from perfect, but it's a helluva lot better than the Legion." With that, we made our way into Nipton.

The crucifications didn't really faze me. My village use to practice this on trespassers.

X

By the time we reached Novac, it was an hour and a half past noon. I've only been here once, and that was just to see the giant dinosaur. I didn't get the chance to get to know the residents back then, but I may get to form new bonds during my investigation.

Cass said she'd have some lunch with some old friends, the McBride family. I asked her to ask them about Mr. Checkered Suit, and she agreed. I told Ed to tag accompany her so that they'd get used to each other's presence. Meanwhile, I would check out the motel and inquire for information there.

I did not expect to see Victor here. He rolled up to me and greeted me. "Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, if it ain't my old friend from Goodsprings!"

With a confused face, I said, "What are you doing in Novac?"

"Don't rightly know - I just got the notion to make my way to New Vegas. Reckon I'll find out when I get there."

He _just got the notion_? It's more likely that whoever made him hire those couriers wants him to return back to base. Maybe Mr. House is pulling some strings. Can't risk that he's listening in on this conversation, though. "How did you get here?"

"Just rolling along on my spurs. Looks like I just might make it to New Vegas after all."

He must have traveled overnight since we didn't cross paths until now. I relaxed my expression and with a nod, smiled. "Ya know, I could use another gun at my side."

"That's a mighty fine offer, but I'm gonna need to conserve my strength if I'm to make it all the way to New Vegas. I'm sure you'll do just fine without old Vic slowing you down."

"Alright then. Anyway, Did you see any of those guys who attacked me come this way, the guy in the checkered suit?"

"Fancy-pants? No, I ain't seen hide-nor-hair of him since the tussle in Goodsprings. I'm sure he ran back to the soft-living of New Vegas, 'though."

Which is exactly where _you're_ heading, what a coincidence. "Well, guess I'll be seeing you around, Victor. If you'll excuse me?"

"Until our trails cross again, pardner."

As I walked pass him and into the motel's front office, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mess I had got myself into. First Great Khans, a guy in a suit, Powder Gangers, the Legion, and now this? I'm starting to regret coming back to the Mojave. I am meeting way too many people who may want to or have tried to kill me, and I don't exactly think I can trust Victor. He's still a robot, and no matter how friendly, they may be, a robot usually always follows orders.

X

"I'm looking for a man in a checkered coat."

"Sure, I know him. What do you want with him?"

Manny Vargas was having a meal under the local kitchen tent. That Cliff guy said he'd be here. After a friendly introduction, I joined him, grabbing a plate of my own. Now, he can hopefully help me with my investigation. "I'm looking for answers."

"Must be something pretty important to be chasing a guy like that."

Knowledge is power, dear stranger.

"Well, listen. I can definitely help you, but I've got problems I've my own." Don't we all. "Maybe we can do a trade. You need my help, and there's something I –"

He stopped abruptly when another person walked into to the tent. He had a 1st Recon Beret and a Hunting Rifle like Manny, but this guy was clean shaven and wore sunglasses. This must be the other sniper Cliff mentioned.

"Hey, Boone," Manny waved and greeted. All Boone did was grunt, grab a bottle of wine, and leave. Manny sighed as he watched him wander off into the distance.

This is all seemed very familiar. That was when I realized that I've seen something like this happen before, back at New Reno. The look that Manny had resembled quite a lot like one Mr. Bishop had a few years ago. He and I were sitting at the bar at the Shark Club when a mutual acquaintance came by for a drink. Her name was Cain, and she had helped Mr. Bishop assume control of the Bishop Family. Cain had the distant, distracted look Boone had. Mr. Bishop's expression was initially a hopeful one but turned into a disappointed one when Cain left without a word. From there, he went on to explain to me about the complications of love and sexuality.

"You've had your needs neglected for far too long, haven't you? I can tell."

"Yeah, I . . . everybody depends on you, you know? But they don't ask you about how you feel. What you worry about."

I nodded. "I know what it feels like to be trusted but at the same time not someone who people would really go out of their way to get to know. It's frustrating, but you can't resist helping them out anyway."

"Yeah, man." Manny was still focusing at the space where Boone's retreating figure disappeared. Then he looked back at me "There's something I like about you. You just seem really understanding. I was gonna ask you for a favor, but I'll just tell you what you wanna know."

I smiled. "So where was my guy heading?"

"The guy you're looking for, his name's Benny by the way, was traveling with some members from my old gang. They were going to Boulder City."

So his name's Benny? At least I finally have an actual name for him now. "Any idea why they went that way?"

Manny shrugged. "No clue. I know Benny hadn't paid up yet. Maybe that was where they were supposed to get square."

That reminds me; some Great Khans were with Benny. Does that mean Manny used to be a drug dealer? "Wait, so you were with the Great Khans? And you joined up with the 1st Recon?"

He gained a somber look as he leaned slight back on his chair. "I was up at Camp Golf when Bitter Springs went down. I faked like I was sick to get out of going, because I knew some of the people there. But when everybody came back, nobody would tell me what happened. And people would call us murderers sometimes when we showed up to secure towns." He shook his head and looked away. "I still don't know exactly. Just that a lot of people died who didn't want to be part of the fighting at all." He recomposed himself and spoke again with a firmer voice. "I don't blame anybody for it. There's so much chaos when you're fighting, you're lucky not to shoot your own guys. But it did take something out of it for me. Just wasn't the same. So when it came time to re-enlist, I just took my papers and walked."

There was a moment of silence before I got out of my seat and stood up. I raised my hand once again for a handshake. "Thanks for the information. I wish the best for you."

Manny shook my hand and nodded. "Yeah, see you."

X

I was walking up the wooden stairs to the Dino shop entrance when I literally ran into Boone. He was exiting the building as we crashed and fell of the platform. The landing hardly made a noise, and neither of us yelped and were not injured.

Hiding my embarrassment with an expressionless face, I got up and helped the sniper to his feet. "Sorry about that," I apologized.

He accepted my helping hand and patted his clothes, getting rid of the dust and dirt. When he noticed that I was waiting for a response, he asked, "You need anything else from me?" He had a rather gruff voice.

I shrugged. "Just looking around, meeting new people."

Boone nodded and looked to the side. Just as I started to walk away, he grabbed my arm. "Wait, you're not from around here, right?" I confirmed his suspicion and he let me go. "I need someone I can trust. You're a stranger, that's a start."

Well, you'd be amazed at how people can easily put faith into someone you've only just met. I crossed my arms and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

He paused and looked around our surroundings. Once he was sure that no one was eavesdropping on us, he turned back to me. "I want you to find out something for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try."

X

I honestly thought there was a good chance that Manny was the one who sold Carla. Hell, even Cass thought so, too. A person can only take up so much neglect before releasing bottled up feelings. Granted, it seemed like he had accepted the barrier between himself and Boone, but he was our prime suspect.

After a game of rock-paper-scissors, Cass smiled in her triumph as I walked up to the infamous No-bark Nooan. I suggested once last time I was here to bring him to the Followers of the Apocalypse for treatment, but it seems my idea was ignored.

"Seen it all," he said when I asked about Carla. "Seen shadowy folk come to his room and leave again in the middle of the night. Thought one might've gone in the lobby, too, for a spell. Could be that person went in to get something. Or use the john maybe. Mighty interesting either way, you ask me."

While Cass distracted Crawford with some questions about the town, she managed to discreetly to pass me the motel's safe key. Discovering the Bill of Sale was a slight shock, but I guess she just didn't really like or respect Carla as a human being to be willingly to sell her into slavery. Cass was surprised when I showed her the paperwork, but she quickly accepted the news.

It was nighttime by the time we got Crawford in front of the Dino. After Boone shot her, Ed and I went to meet with him. Cass said that she needed some sleep and made her way to the motel room we were staying in.

"That's it then. How did you know." After presenting the Bill of Sale, he said, "Figures that they'd keep paperwork." He reached into his back pocket and handed me two bags of caps. "This is all I have. I think our dealing are done here."

As I put my reward into my bag, I asked, "So what are you going to do now?"

Boone sounded tired. His gaze shifted toward the dead body below. "I don't know. I won't be staying, I know that. Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionnaires." We made eye contact. "Maybe I'll wander, like you."

Sounds like Boone needs a new purpose in life, like Cass did. Maybe once he's fully accepted Carla's death and looks forward to the future, I can set them up together? "You can wander with me, ya know. I could always use another gun in the Wasteland."

He shook his head. "You don't need me."

I grinned. "I thought snipers worked in teams."

Boone grunted in amusement. "Yeah. Working on your own, you're a lot less effective. I've been there and paid for it. But if I do come, this isn't going to end well."

"I've got a pretty durable eye-bot," I said as I gestured toward Ed, "and the former head of a successful caravan on my team. A former member of the 1st Recon would only increase our chances of survival out there."

After a minute of thinking, Boone nodded. "Fine, I'll come with you."

With a smile, I said, "We're heading to Boulder City tomorrow morning."

Looks like I really did make new bonds here in Novac. I'd say that this was a productive day!


	5. Consultations

"And that was how I met Ringo."

". . . Sorry, but that story just doesn't make any sense."

"Ah, come on Cass. Why would I lie to you? You believe me, right Boone?"

He grunted and shrugged. Figures. After all, that's all I've really ever seen him do since I've met him.

During our walk to Boulder City, I tried to get to know more about him, but he always gave a simple sentence and did not elaborate unless I kept pestering him. I could tell he wasn't a very social person. Part of the reason for this may have been because of the death of his wife. In my opinion, time does not heal all wounds; it can form a scab. That's why you add gauze and other helpful items to help you get better. Like friendly conversation.

He and Cass acknowledged each other, but Cass could apparently tell that Boone wasn't very talkative and didn't really speak with him. Ed, being the robot he is, couldn't exactly express an opinion verbally or nonverbally. Boone didn't even blink when Ed hovered around him, examining the latest companion.

"Ed's a little protective," I said as Cass gave a laugh.

"A buddy of mine from the 1st Recon swore he saw aliens somewhere north, and I sit inside a giant dinosaur's head for hours each day," Boone responded. "You see weird things happen in the Mojave."

Well, he was right about that. During my first visit to Freeside, I was attacked by three well-dressed elderly woman who were armed with rolling pins.

"Seriously, though," Cass said, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand, "whether if that story's true or not, this Mr. Bishop sounds like one tough son of a bitch, but it just doesn't add up. Making a deathclaw tear someone's balls off – no, getting a deathclaw to do _anything_ you want it to do is just stupid. I doubt anything could tame them."

Boone interjected. "There are rumors of deathclaws that were experimented by the Enclave and became as smart as humans, but they were apparently wiped out decades ago."

"I'm pretty sure the one that Mr. Bishop encountered was a wild one," I said. People rarely believe this story, but I enjoy telling it anyway.

Cass closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't think I want to know what other kinds of trouble you've gotten into."

Grinning, I said, "Well, since you've decided to travel with me, you'll get to experience new adventures with the one and only Jace Bishop!"

"Wait, he adopted you?"

"Actually, I never had a last name. When I started working for the Bishops, they said that I needed one for the paperwork. Mr. Bishop told me to just use his name. He never formally adopted me, though, and I prefer to go by just Jace."

It was an hour before noon when we reached Boulder City. It was more of a series of ruined buildings and a few intact ones, now. I can still remember the explosion that destroyed it four years ago. I wasn't in the actual fighting, but I observed it from afar. That was the first time I got to see the NCR in action. I etched everything I saw during the First Battle of Hoover Dam into my brain. Seeing how Joshua Graham is dead and most Veteran Rangers are holed up in secluded outposts, I'm glad I did. I wish I got to meet the former Legate in person. He left his home and family, like I did, and went on to play a big role in the creation of a new society. I'd like to know about his reasons and motivation for doing so and if there was anything he would regret.

Cass said that nowadays, most people simply stop here while on their way to Vegas. Personally, if there wasn't so much fighting between the Legion and NCR, I'd get someone to rebuild Boulder City. It's in a perfect position for a secondary defense post for the Dam should an attack from the west occur.

The sound of gunshots interrupted my thoughts. I think they were coming from ground zero of the C4 detonation. My party exchanged looks, took out our guns, and proceeded cautiously. Walking pass the memorial, we spotted an NCR soldier who signaled us to approach him. He probably saw Boone's beret and assumed that we would assist with whatever was happening.

"We have a situation with some Great Khans right now," he said. "The brass at McCarran has ordered me to lock down the ruins until it's been resolved."

Khans, huh? Wouldn't you believe my luck? "What's going on with them?"

"One of my patrols was on its way back from Novac when it came under fire from the Great Khans. They radioed for reinforcements, but instead of waiting for us, they chased the Khans into the ruins where they were caught in a crossfire. No deaths, but not all of the squad got out. The Khans have Private Ackerman and Private Gilbert as hostages. Those warning shots you just heard were when my men were getting a little too close for comfort."

I paused and starting thinking. To my left, Boone started asking more about where the Khans were positioned and how long this stalemate lasted. He was probably thinking of a strategy to kill them and save the hostages. Me? When I asked about a guy in a checkered suit to the NCR soldier, he said that no one fitting that description was seen. That means that the Khans were my only leads as to where I might find Benny. He's most likely in New Vegas, but I'd really like some answers.

I spoke up. "Listen, I'm a neutral party here. I can go in unarmed and try to negotiate a deal with the Great Khans. Get everyone get out of this alive."

The soldier, who had introduced himself as Monroe when he was talking with Boone, looked surprised but quickly recomposed himself. "Normally, I'd turn you down since I have no idea who you are, but considering that the hostages are as good as dead when we attack . . . All right, I'm going to give you a chance to talk to the Great Khans. Their leader is a man named Jessup." He crossed his arms. "If we hear shooting, we're coming in, but it'll probably be too late for you."

"Of course."

At the sound of his radio, Monroe went to answer it but gave a final farewell. "Good luck."

Cass grabbed my shoulder and made me look at her. "What, you friendly with Great Khans, too? Didn't these guys try to kill you?"

I shrugged. "It wasn't personal; they were just hired to do a job. I used to do mercenary work, so I don't hold it against them. Besides, they might have more information about Benny."

Boone chimed in. "You really want to risk getting in close and personal with Khans, without any weapons? What kind of deal are you going to give them?"

X

"What the hell? You're that courier Benny wasted back in Goodsprings. You're supposed to be dead!"

"I'm a ghost, here to haunt you. Oooooh . . ."

". . . What? What the fu –"

"I wear the chain I forged in life! I made it link by link and yard by yard! I gartered it on of my own free wi –"

Jessup sighed and shook his head in frustration. "All right, quit fucking around. You survived and you tracked us down. What now?"

Goddamn, A Christmas Carol was a great story. I smiled. "First of all, I'd like to know where Benny is and why'd he want that platinum chip."

Jessup was surprisingly forthcoming with the information I wanted. "He's probably back at the Strip by now, laughing at me. He stole the chip, right before he stabbed us in the back."

So he put the Khans into a position to be killed. "How'd he get the NCR to attack you?"

Jessup's expression darkened as he looked towards a dead Khan to the side. I recall seeing him digging my grave back at Goodsprings. "He probably pulled a few strings 'cause when we were heading to Boulder City, NCR bastards started shooting from behind. Benny ran off ahead, and we followed. We couldn't find him in the ruins, and we were forced to hole up here. Asshole left us to die.

Looks like Mr. Checkered Suit can't be trusted with a simple contract. "What can you tell me about Benny?"

"He's one of the Chairmen, big shots who run The Tops casino in New Vegas. A friend from the city contacted me with info on a big job." He sighed again. "Should've known that the caps were too good to be true, but there was still no way I could pass up the chance."

I've heard about the Chairmen but have never personally interacted with one. I didn't know they were assholes that spoke in sexy voices. "Why did he want the chip?"

"Just a big, fancy poker chip as far as I know. Don't know why anyone would make one out of platinum, though. Maybe he wanted something to express his ego."

"Why did he betray you guys, anyway?"

"He's a snake, that's why. He owed us the rest of the pay for the job, so maybe he didn't want to pay up."

I can't wait to meet Benny! And probably cut off his trigger finger. "Thanks for the information. Now, secondly, I've come here to negotiate for a peaceful resolution between you and the NCR."

He snorted. "What's to negotiate? The NCR backs off, we walk out of here, nobody gets hurt. We would try bribing our way out, but seeing as how Benny didn't pay us yet, that won't happen."

Bribing? Hmm . . . well, I'm actually trying to conserve my caps for when I enter New Vegas, so that's not an option I can use. "Listen, I can see that you're really sick and tired of everything that's happened. So are the NCR. You just want to go home, right?"

Jessup nodded.

I continued. "I've been told that I have a way with words. If you free the hostages, I'll have the NCR escort you out of their territory. Then you can head back to Red Rock Canyon, safe and sound."

I could see Jessup really contemplating my offer. Since he really had no reason to trust me, I sweetened the deal. "I've got nothing against Khans, even if you tried to kill me. If I help you get out of here alive, you can help me get to Benny, even the score. When I find him, I'll even give you his fancy pistol."

Finally, he nodded his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but all right, the hostages can go. The NCR had better keep their end of the deal, though." He grabbed something off the counter and handed it to me. "Here - a souvenir for you. It's Benny's lighter. Shove it up his ass when you catch up with him." I played with it for a bit before putting it into my pocket. "I can't really help you into the Strip without the caps, though. If you do get in, find Mr. Holdout. He's a ginger with a beard that hangs outside of Gomorrah. He can set you up with weapons to sneak in with into the casinos. Tell him he owes the Khans for getting us this shitty job."

X

"I'm glad you were able to get my people freed, but there's a new problem. I just got orders to take out the Great Khans, hostages or not." Monroe had a defeated expression on his face.

Nevertheless, I got a little pissed off. "The Great Khans let the hostages go in exchange for their own freedom. If you have any integrity, you'll honor that deal."

He was conflicted; his facial expression said it all as he rubbed his forehead. "I know, but I can't go against orders . . . can I?"

I grabbed his shoulders and made him look at me. "Listen, it's hard to disobey orders, but you aren't in the middle of a battle right now. No one is fighting, and there doesn't have to be any more deaths today." I let him go. "The Khans and the Republic may have their problems with each other, but all these guys want to do is to go home and mourn. I'm sure you'd like some rest, too, right?"

Monroe closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, he had made up his mind. "You're right. The Great Khans are free to go." He smiled. "Thank you for everything." With that, he left to organize the escort.

When I turned to get the weapons I had left outside the ruins, a voice behind me said, "Your investigation aside, do you think you made the right choice?" I looked back and saw Boone, his arms crossed. "They're just going to cause trouble again eventually, you know that right? They're still raiders."

After holstering my weapons, I replied with a question. "Were you at Bitter Springs?"

Boone's glared at me but said nothing. He started walking toward the memorial just as Cass and Ed greeted me. "He has a point," Cass said. "Great Khans are drug dealers, and they're part of the reason Fiends have overrun South Vegas."

I sighed. "I know, but I'm not about to have everyone that's done me wrong killed. I like to keep moving forward, making new friends. Maybe things will change and the Khans will stop dealing with drugs someday. In any event, I just saw some people caught in an unfortunate situation and decided to lend a hand."

Cass paused. "You're way too nice, but at least that means you're not an asshole."

I grinned. "That's my charm working. There's a quota I need to fill each day. Getting people to do things my way takes practice, ya know." She rolled her eyes with a smile.

Just as the three of us started walking to catch up with Boone, I heard the familiar rolling of a tire on sand and dirt.

"Howdy, pardner!"

Dear God, why the hell is Victor here? My party left a whole hour after he did, I made sure of that! He really must be following me.

X

We decided to have lunch at the 188 Trading Post. After eating, Boone seemed to have finally gotten tired of my pestering and left, said he was going to speak with some NCR buddies on the other side of the overpass. For a man who isn't very social, he seems to know quite a few grunts in the army and initiates conversations with them. Meanwhile, Cass wanted to sell some of the gear I had scavenged over the past few days. I wanted to come with her, but she insisted that I take a break.

"I think you filled your quota, buddy. Sometimes, you just need to sit down and relax. Besides, I know how to sweet talk a good deal."

Fair enough. As she was leaving, I asked the Kerrs to keep an eye on Ed. He had deactivated and needed to recharge on power. The Kerrs used to live in Primm but left when the family matriarch passed away. We were well acquainted, and I knew I could trust them.

With my companions off doing their own things, I sat down on a bench and looked towards the Lucky 38. My mind began to ponder on Mr. House. He was probably the one that had Victor dig me out of the grave. He must have been watching me from the beginning, letting me track down Benny for him. House is lucky that my curiosity knows no bounds or I would stop my investigation right this second. I don't exactly like being used as a tool without giving consent for such a thing to occur. Plus, it really is getting creepy with the idea that a 250 year old man is stalking me through a glass screen.

Out of the blue, a figure in a robe sat next to me. A hood partially hid its face, but I could tell it was a woman.

"Hey, there," she greeted me. "No offense, but you look like you've traveled a long way down some bad roads. Where'd you come from?"

She seemed nice. "The grave."

"Huh. Well, in that case I take it back. You look pretty good, given the circumstances."

I had to chuckle at that response.

"Well," the stranger continued, "welcome then. I'm Veronica. I live in a hole in the ground."

Veronica? That sounded famili – wait, what? "You live in a hole in the ground?"

"Well, a bunker, if you want to get technical." Oh. "I think it sounds more interesting my way. But I'm not there much anymore. I'm usually out here picking up food and supplies for my family. Whatever they need."

"So . . . you just leave your family in the bunker while you explore the Wastes?"

"Yeah. I'm not worried. They can handle themselves. But somebody has to get the groceries, know what I mean? And actually these days I think they'd rather have me out here anyway. But that's a whole other story." Ah, another one with family issues. First me and my parents, Cass and her dad, Boone and Carla, and now this. "So, listen, can I ask you something on the level?"

"Okay."

"I had a run-in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch. Do you know anything about them?"

"Not much, they mostly keep to themselves lately, but from what I've heard, as long as you don't use advanced technology around them; for example, laser or plasma weapons; then they'll just leave you alone."

"Well that shouldn't be a problem for me. I can't afford anything like that."

I suppose. Where is she going with this?

"Hey, so, where are you headed anyway?"

Damn, her curiosity might just be worse than mine! "The Strip."

"Ooo. Very exciting. Gonna strike it rich, huh?" She paused, and we exchanged pleasant smiles. "I'll be honest; you're the first person I've run across out here that looks like he can really handle himself." Oh I doubt that. It's a big world out there with plenty of people who can handle themselves. "There are places I've never been to that'd be too dangerous for just me. What do you think? Maybe we could travel together, help each other out?"

Well, I always enjoy making new friends. "Where are you hoping to go?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular, really. Just hoping to see more of the world, looking for a fresh perspective. I want to see how different groups have adapted to survive in the Mojave. See if there's something I can learn from."

"Really?" That's awesome! "I used to travel and do that, too, learn from other people's experiences."

"You see? Great minds think alike!"

With that personality, I think this woman and I would get along swimmingly. "Okay, let's travel together. I look forward to working with you, Veronica."

She had such an energetic smile. "One thing you should know, first, though. I asked you about the Brotherhood because I'm one of them." Oh? "I know, I know. But I had to know how you'd react when I told you. We've made a lot of enemies. You still okay bringing me along?"

"Well, to be honest with you, I've also made a few enemies over the years. I'm fine with having a Brotherhood of Steel member tag along, but you should know that I have two companions with me who are pro-NCR. They're decent guys, but you can decide if you want them to know where you're from."

X

"Well, thanks for taking a chance on a naïve young girl from California with stars in her eyes and a pneumatic gauntlet on her hand." Boone and Cass didn't seem to mind Veronica's background.

"I've got nothing against the Brotherhood of Steel. At least they have more morals than the Legion."

"You can't help it where or how you're born. Things between you and the NCR might be rocky, but you're just one person. I'm not going to blame you for everything's that's happened.

"Beep-beep-beep."

Isn't friendship a wonderful thing? Now, where the hell have I heard the name Veronica before . . .

X

"Your face does the thinking - two to the skull, yet one gets up. Odds are against you . . . but they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You're playing the hand you've been dealt, but you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble . . . a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

I wonder how this story will end? The last time I was told from a psyker that I was in a situation with _"rapidly changing conditions"_ was when I nearly turned into a Super Mutant.

I heard that Marcus set up a settlement somewhere northwest. Maybe we can schedule another therapy meeting once I've taken care of Benny.


	6. Cold

_**The armor I refer to is basically the one from the "Armored Bounty Hunter Duster" mod, published by Gopher. It's a combination of the regulator duster and the Brotherhood of Steel recon armor. **_

X

"Hello, again. Still in one piece, I see."

"Of course I'm still alive." While Arcade Gannon was a great guy to converse with, it always felt like he was hiding something, a dirty little secret. I tried to get inside his head, but he has an even better way with words than me! Plus, he likes to shift the conversation into other topics, such as politics. He gave quite a vehement response when I first asked him about the head of Caesar's Legion.

"Everything makes sense to Caesar because he's twisted everything to his world view. He's Caesar reincarnated, the NCR is the corrupt Roman senate. I wouldn't be surprised if he thought the Colorado River was the new Rubicon. He abdicates responsibility to a myth of historical inevitability, but he's not Caesar. This isn't Rome. Maybe he didn't intend for things to wind up this way, but that doesn't mean he needs to perpetuate this bizarre anachronistic myth. And it doesn't mean that we should sit by and nod our heads at every absurd faux-Roman casus belli he can dream up.

"To sum it up, he's a tyrant, the bad kind."

Like I said, he's got a way with words. In any case, I'm glad to have him as a friend.

Arcade was there when I first came to Freeside. Mormon Fort was where I first encountered the Followers of the Apocalypse, and Arcade was very helpful with sharing information about the organization and about the region in general. Also, as you can probably tell, he was one of my main sources for information related to the Legion.

While he is strongly against the Legion, he disapproves the way the current government of the Republic had allowed itself to become as well. For example, it doesn't care about other settlements unless they have something to offer. The NCR is part of the reason that things are so tense in Freeside with so many of its citizens failing to get into the Strip. In a way, he's a lot like Cass; they both wish there was a governing system where caravans and everyday people are sheltered, fed, and protected. Plus, they both have a somewhat dry and witty sense of humor. If Arcade was interested in women, I may have tried setting up a date between them. He has mentioned feeling a little lonely.

"So, are you going to try to get into the Strip again?"

The two of us where sitting under a tent in the fort, having a meal together. "Yeah," I responded. "Finally found the right motivation to commit myself to this."

"Really?"

"Yup. Benny, the head of the Chairmen, shot me in the head and stole a platinum chip that I was delivering to Vegas. I'm tracking him down, looking for answers."

" . . . "

"I swear that this is true." I reached into my pocket. "You see this? A fancy lighter? It belongs to Benny." After letting Arcade examine it, I put it away.

"What are you going to do once you find this, Benny?" Before I could speak, he spoke again. "Actually, how do you know he doesn't have people tracking _you_ down? If he listens to Radio New Vegas, he'll learn about the infamous 'Courier' who made a full recovery after getting shot. Did you really round up a small militia, there?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I did, and I anticipated those radio broadcasts." I motioned towards my Pip-Boy. "I've been listening in on them, too. That's why I changed my gear before coming here. If Benny or a lackey sees me, they won't recognize me."

Two days after meeting Veronica, my party made a stop at the Gun Runner's shop. After helping them out a few years ago, they gave me a decent discount and owed me a few favors. I traded my leather armor for a customized sheriff duster outfit they had been developing. It was pretty much like any such duster, but they added shoulder pads, knee pads, sturdier boots, and some light armor underneath the clothing. I also took a security helmet, a model that the Runners had just released into the market, to hide my face. For my SMG, I took a Marksman Carbine as a replacement. I kept my machete, though. I've had it for as long as I could remember, and I couldn't allow myself to part ways with it.

My companions, except Ed, also got clothes. Boone decided to purchase a set of standard Combat Armor. Cass bought a set of reinforced leather armor but said she'd save it if we get back on the open road. Veronica wanted a dress, but instead, she got herself the new lightweight metal armor. For some reason, she insisted on leaving her hood on.

During my talk with Arcade, I had laid my helmet on a table to the side. After I gestured toward it, Arcade spoke again. "Well, this 'change of gear' must have cost you a hefty sum of caps. Do you think you have enough left over to enter the Strip?

Shaking my head, I said, "No. I have a party of four, including me, and one robot. We need at least 4,000 caps to get in, and at the moment, we only have about 500 in our 'Get Inside the Strip" fund. That's why we split up, looking for work."

"Well, I hope you don't expect to be paid for any services you help the Followers with. Things are still pretty bad here, but that deal you set us up with the Garrets was a great help."

I chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, wanting me to do more charity work."

"Tough times, ya know? Anyway, who are these people you're traveling with?"

"Well, there's Boone, an ex-1st Recon Sniper, and Cass, former owner of Cassidy Caravans. They're NCR supporters, but they acknowledge its faults and are pretty decent guys. Then there's Veronica, a sweet girl from the Brotherhood of Steel who wants to see the world." Arcade raised his eyebrows at this but allowed me to continue. "I've also got Ed tagging along, and no, I am never going to deactivate him and throw him down a ditch."

Arcade looked to the side and muttered a curse. When he looked back up, he said, "Sounds like you haven't driven them insane yet, seeing as how they're still traveling with you."

"They still don't believe the story of how I met Ringo, though."

"No one ever will." Damn, I thought Arcade believed me. Oh well. "So, how exactly are you going to get the 4,000 caps you need?"

"Boone reconnected with some old NCR pals at Camp McCarran and is repaying some old debts. Then he's going to look more into those Fiend bounties. Cass met up with Ringo and is doing odd jobs for the Crimson Caravan. She brought Ed with her. Veronica wanted to check out the Silver Rush, but when we meet up later, we'll visit North Vegas and see if anyone has any work for us."

"Well, if you can spare the time, do you think you could help out here for a bit? I wasn't kidding about things still being bad."

I grinned. "Of course."

"Come on." Arcade rose from his seat. "Let's go find Julie. I'm sure she'll have a job ready for you. Maybe you can nearly get Pacer killed again."

I sighed with irritation as I grabbed my helmet. "Damn it, man, why did you have to bring _that _up?"

"Hey, he still holds that against you. How exactly did you get banned from entering the King's School of Impersonation, anyway?"

"As much as I like sharing stories, you don't want to know this one. I'm pretty sure that, like, half of the Kings still don't like me because of what I did."

"But what _did _you –"

"You don't want to know."

"But –"

"Just drop it, Arcade."

I laughed at his kicked-puppy dog expression. The King's the one that told me to not share what happened all those years ago. He's a great guy, so I decided to respect his wishes. He and I are on good terms, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Arcade and I found Julie in her improvised office, sitting by her desk. She was writing something down, maybe a few notes on recent activities. When Arcade called for her, she turned around and smiled.

"Jace," she said as she rose from her seat, "It's been too long." We shook hands. "Did you return to help us out again? Should I be worried?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're just as bad as Arcade." They chuckled. "And yeah, I'm here to help. You don't even need to pay me."

"Thanks." She went back to her desk and fiddled with her papers. "We actually have something we really need help with. There's a Follower who went missing a week ago."

Julie came back and presented a document with a photo. It was of a middle-aged man with a thinning, silver beard. He was bald and had a thick, big nose.

"This is Dale Stones," she continued. "He's a well-respected Follower who works with tribes that the NCR found and annexed. He usually helps them adapt to their new lifestyle or teach them any skills they may need to know; how to read, medical procedures and the like."

From Julie's tone, she seemed to really enjoy talking about Dale. She rarely speaks in anything aside from a polite or stressed voice. However, she almost sounded like she revered the man. Julie must admire this "Dale" greatly.

"Dale was on his way to meet with a group of tribals further northeast of here when he saw the state of Freeside. He stayed here at the fort and started helping out until he disappeared. He was on his way to meet with the King, but he never arrived. We can't afford sending Followers out to look for him, and the Kings have their hands full with just keeping the peace around here. Can you try to find him?" The worry was evident in her voice.

She goes through a lot of stuff on a day-to-day basis, and this disappearance must be really getting to her. He's probably dead, but I came here to help. "Of course, I'll look into this. What was he last seen wearing?"

X

"Hey, kid. Staying safe?"

Since I was not allowed to enter the King's residence, I decided to start my investigation by asking random bystanders questions. Some of them recognized me when I was last here and divulged what information they could give, but most just glared at me until I stopped bothering them. Eventually, I found myself talking with the Mick and Ralph's child advertiser.

"I do what I can," the boy, Chris, replied. "Oh, did you know that Ralph formally adopted me? There was a ceremony with the King and everything!"

"Really? Are he and Mick taking good care of you?"

"Yeah, he even adopted Max and Stacey. It's actually pretty nice to have a dad and a brother and sister."

Wow. I guess the kids meant more to Ralph than I thought. I looked at Chris's hip and noticed a knife. My eyes narrowed a fraction, but I kept my tone as cordially as it was before as I said, "You know how to use that weapon?"

"Yeah."

"You ever had to use that on a person?"

I could see him getting a little uncomfortable as he looked to the ground, but the kid spoke up anyway. "Well, I've never had to hurt someone with it, but I did have to wave it around once when some thugs started talking to me. But there was man who ran them off before they could start something."

My eyes relaxed. "That man that helped you, was he this guy?" I showed him a picture of Dale.

Chris's eyes widened and nodded his head vigorously. "Yeah, that's him! He seemed really nice, so I introduced him to Mick and Ralph. I think his name was Dale."

"That's right, kid. I'm looking for him. Do you know where he might be?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Dale had a long talk with Mick and left the store. It was getting late, so Ralph told me to go to bed. I looked through my window and saw Dale talking with Dixon. I think I saw them go down an alley, but I haven't seen him since."

"Alright, thanks kid." I handed him a small bag of caps. "Take care of yourself." I rubbed his head and walked away.

"Thanks, mister!"

Dixon was a piece of shit. He gets people hooked on drugs and watches as his buyers destroy themselves. I don't know how he lives with himself, but he's one of the reasons that Freeside's in such a terrible shape. I bet the Followers would love it if he wasn't around, but Julie keeps saying that we can't just kill people that we don't like; it'll only add to all of the problems here. She's afraid that all of the addicts will end up rioting with their primary dealer gone.

I wonder if she'll change her tune if Dixon turns out to be the reason that Dale disappeared.

For some reason, Dixon was at his usual spot by the destroyed building where most of the drunks and addicts hang out. He enjoys watching them moan and groan, crawling on the ground. It was a surprise that he wasn't somewhere close by.

Then I spotted a stranger waving at me. He was standing right next to an alley.

_Damn, that must be another poor attempt at a robbery_, I thought. Nevertheless, I walked towards him. Getting rid of another scumbag wouldn't take too much out of my schedule. Plus, he might be sober enough to know where Dixon went. When I put my hands into my pockets, a voice chirped from behind me.

"Hey, stranger."

I turned back and saw Veronica approaching.

"So, are we going to go ask for work, or did you get job from the Followers?"

I nodded. "I'm tracking down a Follower." I showed her the picture. "His name's Dale. He was last seen talking with Dixon, a drug dealer."

Her expression grew sour. "Sounds like trouble."

"Yeah. I'm still looking around." I motioned towards the still-waving thug. "Over there, you can see a terrible robber in his natural habitat. He might know where Dixon is."

"Alright, then. I'll back you up if he has friends waiting to ambush you."

"Sounds like a plan. Let's move."

Veronica and I walked nonchalantly into the alley. The thug retreated to the end where some dumpsters were set up. When we got closer, he gestured towards a dead body. It was a male dressed in a typical trader outfit. He was bald and had greying skin. After examining him for a moment, I realized that this was Dale himself.

The thug said smugly, "You see this guy here, between the dumpsters?" There was a hint of amusement when he spoke.

I didn't dignify him with a verbal answer. Instead, I gave a kick to his groin before headbutting him. He fell to the ground, screaming, one hand clutching his genitals with the other grabbing his forehead. Behind us, I heard shouting. There were two more thugs armed with baseball bats running toward us. Veronica smashed the nearest one in the stomach with her power fist. He dropped his weapon as Veronica went for his head. Taking out my machete, I blocked an attack from the other thug. Moving swiftly, I disarmed him and cut his throat.

Holstering my weapon, I looked back at the first thug. He was still rolling on the ground in pain. I grabbed his neck and raised him up so that his feet hung just over where he was laying.

"Did you kill this man?" I questioned, nodding at Dale's body.

He struggled to answer but responded. "Ah, ow. Ugh, yeah, yeah man. We killed this guy. Please, don't kill me."

I kicked his crotch again. My voice remained as impassive as ever. "Did someone tell you to kill him specifically?"

The thug grunted a few more times before answering. "Dixon, he wanted this guy dead. Whoever he was, he made Dixon lose some customers. I think they were Followers, but he didn't care. He gave us a fix and told us to get rid of this guy."

Guess Dixon grew even more cynical over the last few years. After dropping the thug to the ground, I put my foot on his neck. "Where's Dixon? Tell me quickly or I'll break your neck." The thug tried to get free, but he was in too much pain to do much.

Before he could say something coherent, I heard more grunts from behind me. Veronica was holding someone by his arms and was pushing him to the ground. A switchblade was lying down to the side.

"Fuck you!" the restrained man yelled in anger. It was Dixon.

I raised my foot and kicked the thug across his face. He was knocked out, blood flowing out his nose. After drawing my 9mm pistol, I kneeled down right next to Dixon's head. I pressed my gun on his head, and he stopped struggling. I exchanged a look with Veronica. She rose from her position and looked back down the alley, keeping an eye out for any more thugs.

With a smile, I said to Dixon, "So, you getting desperate with getting enough customers to amuse yourself?"

He growled. "What's it to you, asshole? We all need a way to get by and stay sane."

I gave a humorless laugh as I pressed my gun even harder onto the side of his forehead. "What exactly gives you joy when you watch drunks walking around, higher than the Lucky 38?"

"We were doing just fine before all of those shits from out west came here and made a mess of things. We don't need NCR eggheads wandering around confusing everything." He chuckled. "Hell, a few Followers were out of their domes addicted to my stuff. They couldn't get enough. Pretty hilarious to watch. At least until that old guy came around."

After a short bout of silence, I pistol whipped Dixon on the back of his head. I stood up and walked towards Dale. I carefully closed his eyes.

Veronica was bemused. "Um, what are you doing?"

"Just putting the dead to rest," I said. I shot the first thug that was unconscious. Then I shot Dixon.

The gunshots startled my companion. "Woah." When she recomposed herself, she said, "He really was a scumbag, huh?"

"Dixon? You bet he was. He was one of those guys that saw other people as their playthings. I hate people like that." I put my gun away and started to leave the alley. "Let's go tell the Followers what happened."

"Think that they'll believe us?"

I raised my Pip-boy. "I've been playing around with this, and I recorded everything that was said in the past five minutes on here."

X

The Kings were kind enough to schedule a funeral for Dale. It wouldn't take place for a few days, but they were keeping the body intact in the School of Impersonation. The King, the boss himself, even came by and visited Julia.

"Dale was a big help when he arrived, and I could tell you really respected him. I'm sorry for letting this happened."

Julie was a strong woman, but even she had to shed a few tears. Hell, Arcade gave a _single tear_ when we helped transport the body. I've never seen him express any extreme emotion aside from annoyance or anger during a critique, so Dale must have _really_ made a huge impact while he was here. However, I chose not ask more about him until later. There'd be time for that during the funeral. Plus, I didn't want to bother them with my curiosity for once.

At the fort, I was sifting through some papers in Julie's office when The King came up to me.

In his smooth voice, he greeted me. "Hello, Jace. It's been, what, four months? How's life as a courier treating you?"

I don't think anyone could resist giving a smile when talking to this guy. He was just too charismatic. "Well, I got shot in the head during one of my deliveries." I pointed at my small scar.

His eyes widened. "Really? Well, I'm glad you got better. Respectable and skilled kids like you aren't too common these days. How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing good, still kicking. I'm actually trying to get into the Strip again, this time with a few friends. How about you? How have you been?"

"As you've probably figured out by now, the situation in Freeside is not at the most ideal state at this time. Tension between thugs and NCR squatters is still something we have to deal with." His gaze grew distant and sad. "Still can't believe we let Dale get killed."

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Speaking of which, the Strip? You're not going to start another incident like last time, are you?"

He winked when I gave a sigh. "Don't worry. I'll do my best not to bring Pacer or any other Kings into another scuffle like before."

"I appreciate it, Jace. Now, sorry to cut this reunion short, but I need to get going."

"No problem. You're a busy man, after all."

"And you're one of a kind, Jace. Stay classy." With that, The King made his exit.

I sighed again as I sat down on the chair. While there was a lot going on around me, my mind was elsewhere: Veronica. Ever since my recovery, my memories have been a bit jumbled up. However, after looking through Julie's papers, I finally remembered where I heard the name Veronica before. It was during one of the few adventures that I've retold to Arcade and where he actually believes that it occurred. He must have told Julie, and she must have deemed such information interesting enough to make a note about it.

The Followers of the Apocalypse were apparently planning an expedition to the Sierra Madre Casino but never found the resources and people to do so.


	7. Bonding

_ For an elderly man, Elijah had some rather impressive upper body strength. With just one arm, he was choking me and holding me right over the edge of the platform. Whatever he injected himself with must have done something to boost his adrenaline. He was still bleeding from the hole I left after cutting off his left arm. _

_ I wasn't doing much better. My entire body hurt like hell, I'm pretty sure that my left leg was broken, and my machete was on the other side of the room. _

_ He was baring his teeth and snarled. "I've had enough . . . enough of others stealing from me!" _

_ Why hasn't he let me fall already? Oh yeah, he's insane. I get to hear the ramblings of a mad man before I fall to my death. _

_ "I have earned it, fought for it. Paid for it in blood, mine, others - countless times. Now, I get to have it all. I'm going to kill you, and then I'll take control of the Sierra Madre, and then I'll destroy the NCR and start a new world." He chuckled. "It's a shame you won't be able to be there with me. I could tell from when we first met. You didn't just want to leave. You wanted to explore the Villa, the Cloud, see everything it had to offer." _

_ As my vision got blurrier and my eyes began to close, Elijah shook me awake. "You still there? Good, I'm not done yet, child."_

_ I could still smell the smoking metal, from the destroyed turrets and from stray shots scattering the floor. Christine managed to break his Gauss Rifle, but in return, the old man shoved her inside the vault. She was pounding on the door, much harder than when she was stuck in the Auto-Doc._

_ While Elijah continued his monologue, I thought back to how I got stuck in this mess. Mr. Bishop saw that I was getting tired of New Reno. A person can get a lot done in six months, but many of the people I had to work with were assholes. Only a few had a good understanding of respect. Mr. Bishop decided that I should wander again, let off some steam while on the road. Since Ringo was out of town, he suggested checking out the Sierra Madre. Rumors of the place were making a comeback, so I said, "Guess it's up to me to quell all this gossip."_

_ "For all we know, people might be trying to get it up and running, so I'd like you to inspect any potential competition."_

_ Then my thoughts drifted to the two mutated companions I had met on this journey, or four I should say. Dog and God somehow merged into one being. No idea how that happened, but I went along with it. The new "voice" was very confused. I told him to leave, to find a Super Mutant named Marcus. I knew Marcus could help him. _

_ Dean Domino, my other companion, was probably still having a drink in the theater. After getting rid of the security holograms, we sat down and he spoke about his plans, about his relationship with Sinclair and Keyes. Afterward, he showed me his injured leg; he barely escaped a tussle with some Ghost People before making it inside the Casino. Dean had treated it as best as he could, but there weren't any medical supplies we could use to quicken the recovery. So, I left to find Christine, leaving the tired Ghoul to reminisce as he watched his hologram sing. _

_ Christine and I had a plan to draw out Elijah and to end this mess. Unfortunately, things went south, and I realized I needed to work a bit more on my charisma. _

_ "Veronica . . ."_

_ My attention was brought back to the man about to kill me. Who was Veronica? Small but noticeable tears were falling from his eyes, and he spoke with a shaky voice._

_ "She'll understand. I know she will. She might disapprove-no, she _will _disapprove, but she'll learn to accept it."_

_ So Veronica was someone close to Elijah. He must have left her behind for his quest for technology. _

_ "Even if she doesn't, it won't matter in the long run." His voice became firmer, more determined. _

_Seriously, he is _missing his entire left arm and is slowly bleeding to death._ What the hell was in that syringe?_

_ "Things are going to change, boy. The Cloud, the holograms the vending machines; they will change so much." _

_ Yeah, he was right. Everything in the Sierra Madre is a perfect example of what technological advances were being made before the bombs. People out there are still relying on raiding and stealing for survival. If the machines in here were recreated, regulated, and spread across the Wasteland, the world could get so much better. If only Elijah didn't want to use it all to take over the world. Others would probably try to do the same even if the old man wasn't here. _

_ My mind was growing numb. With the continuous exposure to the Cloud, lack of sleep, the Ghost People nearly mutilating me numerous times, the stress of finding and deactivating radios, and my broken leg, I was just done. I was too weak and too tired to fight back. Maybe I did have the strength to gain the upper hand, but I was really ready to let it all go. _

_ A gunshot woke me up. Elijah fell back, letting me go. On instinct, I reached forward with my arms. I was hanging at the edge of the platform. The old man was clutching his side, screaming. More blood was seeping out of the new wound. _

_ Looking up to my right, I saw Dean. After holstering his revolver, he helped me up. "Come on," he said. "We need to get out of here." Dean put my arm over his shoulder, and we started moving. _

_The pounding; I could still hear the pounding. "Christine. We need to get her out of the Vault." _

_ He shook his head. "No time. The Ghost People have made it in. That Nightkin is distracting them, but he might be overwhelmed if we don't go right now." _

_ I looked back toward the vault door. The pounding was getting very loud, louder than the screams and the alarms. "But . . . "_

_ "I'm sorry, Jace," I looked back at Dean. He used my name. He didn't call me "sport" or "Ace." He called me by my real name. "But don't worry, she won't be there for long." _

_ He set me down by the elevator, injected me with some MedX, and went back towards the platform. I heard another gunshot, followed by a familiar beeping from my collar. Not long after, Dean returned with my machete and we made our way up. _

_ The lobby was littered with bodies. Some by my hand, but most were probably from the new voice. He was panting, but after stretching his body, his breathing resumed its normal pace. Dean called for his attention, but before the Mutant could respond, the front doors were burst open by more Ghost People. _

_ However, in their mad rush toward us, they froze. They must have noticed all of their dead brethren scattered everywhere. Slowly they backed away, keeping a watchful eye on all of us before retreating into the Villa. _

_ The three of us left the Sierra Madre after rendering the collars harmless. Once our injuries were adequately healed, the voice, whom we elected to name Duality, decided to leave, to find his own path. I once again suggested finding Marcus, another man who I owe my life. When he left, Dean decided to come with me to New Reno to make a new name for himself. _

_ Mr. Bishop readily accepted him, and folks would come from all over the NCR to see "The Domino of the Sierra Madre" himself. Dean also led periodic raids on the Sierra Madre over the course of his career. After I told Mr. Bishop of what had transpired, he deemed the casino, the Cloud, and all the technology in it too dangerous for anyone to use. _

_ As for me? I wanted nothing to do with the damn place when we left._

_ A few months later, I stumbled upon a hidden bunker in the Mojave. The terminal entries said that it was abandoned by the Brotherhood of Steel. During my scavenging, I found a holodisk labeled, "For Veronica."_

_ After having Ed unlock the message and playing it back at Primm, I gave a sigh. I shut down Ed and went to lie on my bed. I had finally found out who Veronica was, and who she was to Elijah. And to Christine. _

_ And the pounding that was always in the back of my head finally stopped._

X

"That was . . . that was hard to watch."

We were inside my room at the Atomic Wrangler. After realizing who Veronica was, I had Ed play the message for her. Boone, Cass, and I gave her some privacy, but she called me in afterward.

Contrary to my predictions, she wasn't crying. However, she did have that sad look in her eyes. "Did it make any sense to you?" I said quietly.

"The parts that I understood? Didn't matter. Past all of the garbage, all it really amounted to was goodbye." She looked away. "I know I shouldn't ask this, but . . . how did he die?"

With my most neutral expression and voice I could make, I answered, "He was going to take over the Mojave through death and destruction. Christine and I had to stop him." Veronica looked back to me. "You know Dean Domino, the Ghoul singer in New Reno? He was the one who made the killing shot. He killed Elijah, and Christine died in the process."

Veronica continued to stare for a while before taking a deep breath and shaking her head. "Sorry . . . Feel a little out of it. Head's spinning a bit." After another pause, she spoke again. "Thanks for giving me all this, for telling me about Elijah and . . . Christine. Thank you."

I gave a very small smile. "We all need a little closure, you know."

She gave a smile back, that beautiful, happy, energetic smile.

If only she was interested in men. Oh well.

X

"Well, I got us about 550 caps from working at the Crimson Caravan. Ringo says hi, by the way."

"I asked about the bounties, but all of the targets are really inside Fiend territory. Going after them means that we'll need careful planning. If you want to take the job, we need to dedicate a lot of time on it."

"Alright," I responded. My party and I were seated at a table in the Wrangler. Hadrian had just finished doing another comedy bit. We were having a late dinner while planning out next move.

"I did some work for those guys at the Silver Rush and got 200 caps."

"Okay," I continued, doing some math in my head, "so we have about a thousand caps to go into the fund." I paused and assumed a thinking position. "There was an incident with The King way back when, so I can't go into their School of Impersonation."

Cass and Boone sighed. They both asked, "What the hell did you do?"

"Long story, but he might have work for us." I ignored the shaking of their heads.  
"Who wants to pay The King a visit?"

Cass volunteered. "I'll go. I always wanted to meet the guy, but I heard that most of the Kings in general are nothing but a pack of hound dogs. What should I expect?"

I smiled. "Well, don't be surprised when a bunch of them start flirting with you. However, The King himself is a pretty slick and a great guy. All he really wants is for people in Freeside to stay safe. It's hard not to like or respect him."

She nodded. "Alright. What other options do we have?"

"Aside from gambling, we could try heading further north and check out the settlements there. Westside, North Vegas; someone ought to require some sort of help and be willing to pay for it." I turned to Veronica. "You wanted to see how other groups have survived for so long out here, right? You and I were going to North Vegas anyway, how about it?"

She shrugged. "Sure, no problem."

I turned to Boone. "Where do you want to go? You could tag along with one of us or try to find work elsewhere."

After a moment, the sniper said, "Actually, there's a friend from the 1st Recon that's going through some problems. She's worrying the other snipers and soldiers at Camp McCarran, and I was thinking about talking with her." He sounded hesitant, as if he didn't want to share this information.

I said, "I'm good with people. You could introduce me to her and –"

"I'd rather do this on my own," Boone interrupted me. "She was raped by a Fiend, and she's distancing herself from everyone except her own unit. I'll just talk with the rest of the Recon stationed there and try to get her some help."

Slowly, I nodded. "Okay, then. Do what you have to do. So, to sum it all up, Cass is going to the Kings, you're going to Camp McCarran, and Veronica and I are going to North Vegas." Ed beeped from behind me. I almost forgot about him. "Ed, you can come with me, alright?" I patted his tin body.

X

The next day, while on our way out of Freeside, Veronica, Ed, and I ran into Arcade. He was talking with a group of Kings before they dispersed. When he spotted us, he walked over and said hello. "Thanks again for finding Dale. He deserved a proper funeral."

"Yeah," I replied. "So, what's happening with the Kings?"

"Them? Oh, we were just organizing a few more patrols and medical appointments. We finally thought that regulated schedules like these could add a sense of duty to encourage them the Kings to keep a better eye out for trouble."

"Nice. Anyway, we're heading to North Vegas, to find work. Has anything new happened that we should be aware of?"

"No, it should still be the same destroyed shantytown as it was ten years ago. Speaking of which, mind if I come with you? The Followers have business with the improvised peace keepers there, and I was elected to talk with them."

"Sure, man." Having a skilled medic on your team always gave you an advantage. I started walking and motioned my companions to follow. "What exactly are you going to go over with them?"

"We have Followers in Freeside and Westside, but not in North Vegas. I'm supposed to go over the details and decide who we're going to send for a long-term stay."

"Good to know that the Followers are finally expanding a bit more nowadays."

"Yeah. So," Arcade turned to Veronica, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Arcade Gannon. You're Veronica, right?"

She smiled. "That's my name, don't wear it out! Nice to meet you. You probably don't remember, but I was with Jace, helping out at the Mormon fort."

"I did see you, and thanks for the help by the way. Jace's has mentioned you before." Arcade looked around before looking back at the girl. "So you're with the Brotherhood of Steel?"

At first, Veronica didn't respond. Then she said, "Well, if Jace told you who I am, you must be someone he really trusts, huh?"

Arcade gave a laugh. "I suppose. But like I said, he's told me about you, and I'm just glad that someone with your skillset wants to help people out here. We need more individuals like you doing that, but there just isn't enough, so thanks for putting in the effort."

She paused. "Wow. Okay then, no problem. I'm happy to help. Honestly, with the tension between the Brotherhood, NCR, and Followers, I thought you wouldn't accept me, but I'm glad I was wrong."

"I mean, after all, if you haven't left Jace yet, you must be under his whimsical influence. Any sensible person would make sure that he doesn't take advantage of a sweet girl like you."

"Hey," I sternly interrupted, "you both know I'm better than that."

Arcade sported a mischievous smile. "Really? What about that time with –"

"That never happened."

"- Sadie, was it?"

"That _never _happened!"

"Stop denying it."

I stopped in my stride and lightly elbowed him. "Never happened."

Damn, Veronica was smiling, too! "There something I should know?"

"No. And we're not bringing this up," I glared at Arcade, "_ever_ again. Besides, we're here. Let's keep moving."

From behind me, I could hear the Follower whisper, "He's just upset that a girl he used to date cheated him at –"

Moving swiftly, I tripped him with my leg. As he started falling forward, I made a 180 degree turn and punched him in the gut. I wasn't anything serious or lasting, but he'd feel it in the morning. Arcade hunched over for a second before muttering an apology.

As we resumed our walk and entered North Vegas, Arcade said, "Hey, sorry again. I just thought –"

"I know, I know . . ." I sighed. "Let's just take care of business." I hope I never see _that whore_ again.

_**2 hours later . . .**_

"Jules!" I yelled.

I slid down the ladder and landed right next to him. We were taking cover by the building across The Gray. A group of Fiends had attacked and took over the apartments. Arcade was tending to some wounded residents elsewhere, and Veronica occupied herself with a melee in the playground with Crandon assisting her. With most of the local guards dead, Jules and I were left with saving any hostages in The Gray.

After taking out another Fiend that was shooting from a balcony, I ducked behind a corner and faced Jules, bullets riddling where I was standing. "There's only two left outside." He was reloading his revolver. I heard a scream as Ed retreated to our position. He beeped energetically. "Make that one unless more come out." Jules nodded as he was readjusting his gun, frowning as it was jammed.

Looking around the corner, I spotted Crandon using his shotgun as a club, splattering a Fiend's brains all over a slide. Crandon discarded his broken firearm and drew out a hunting revolver. He moved over the bodies and leaned to the eastern side of The Gray. Veronica was right behind him. They made eye contact with me.

I looked back at Jules. The former wanderer fixed his gun and nodded at me with a face full of determination. I nodded back and raised my hand towards our two other comrades. I opened my palm before slowly closing each finger. Once I formed a fist, we started rushing for the front entrance. Ed killed the last Fiend outside as we paused at the sides of the front doors.

From my duffle bag, I took out two pulse grenades. They should momentarily stun anyone in range, possibly cause a small seizure. With the Fiends taking drugs so often and already spazzing out at random intervals, we could probably take out a good bunch before moving on to the next floor. I kicked open the doors and threw one grenade to the left and one to the right. Once they detonated, we made our way inside.

Crandon and I were checking the apartment rooms, clearing them out while Jules and Veronica covered the hallways. Ed stayed at the entrance if any stragglers tried to escape. In only a few minutes, we had cleared the building. Any hostages were stuffed in a bathroom on the top floor, but they would survive. Luckily, the Fiends only shoved them around and didn't really hurt them.

Unfortunately, they did a lot of long-term damage by killing most of the North Vegas guards. Aside from Crandon and Jules, there were only two left. Seven of them and around four regular settlers were dead. Arcade managed to save a few lives at least.

After setting up a bonfire for all of the bodies, Crandon walked up to me. "Sorry that our little abode wasn't as safe as it was last time you were here, merc."

"No need to apologize, I came here to help. Free of charge this time."

Crandon was surprised. "Really?"

I used to be a bit of a miser back then. "To tell you the truth, I could really use the money, but you'll need whatever you have to rebuild your strength here."

His expression became a bit somber. "Ain't that the truth. Guess we need to schedule a meeting with the Followers _and_ the Kings." We shook hands. "Thanks for helping out again, merc. Don't get killed out there." He walked away and towards Arcade.

I sighed as I looked back at the burning bodies. It seemed that the Fiends are getting more confident every day. Maybe we really should take on those bounties.

Who knows what Benny's up to with the Platinum Chip. It's going to take a long time for us to scrape together enough caps to simply get into the Strip. My curiosity is killing me, but I care too much about everyday people getting slaughtered for no good reason.


End file.
